


The Wolf and the Hunter

by OpheliaAlexiou



Series: the Omega Wolf Series [2]
Category: Hard Fantasy, Original Work, Paranormal Fantasy, Shadow Masquerade, Supernatural Fantasy
Genre: Alpha Females, Alpha Males, Alpha/Omega, Anal Sex, Androgyny, Asexual Character, Attempt at Humor, Bath Houses, Bath Sex, Bathing/Washing, Battle, Battlefield, Bisexual Male Character, Bisexuality, Biting, Blow Jobs, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Cock Slut, Comedy, Complicated Relationships, Cybernetics, Cyborgs, Dom/sub, Double Anal Penetration, Double Oral Penetration, Double Penetration, Double Penetration in One Hole, Erotica, Exhibitionism, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Femdom, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Forest Sex, Frottage, Fur, Furry, Gangbang, Gay Sex, Gender Identity, Gender Issues, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Genderless Character, Gentle Sex, Gentleness, Girl Penis, Group Sex, Gun Violence, Humor, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Implied/Referenced Torture, Intersex, Killing, Kink, Large Cock, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Male Protagonist, Male Slash, Masochism, Multi, Mummies, Obedience, Off-screen death, Older Man/Younger Man, Older Woman/Younger Man, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Original Character Death(s), Outdoor Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Religious Discussion, Revenants, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, SGR, Sadism, Sadomasochism, Same-Gender Romance, Scratching, Self-Lubrication, Sensual Play, Sensuality, Sex, Sexual Humor, Shower Sex, Significant Character Death, Smut, Some Humor, Spanking, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M, Threesome - M/M/M, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Undead, Underwater, Underwater Blowjobs, Underwater Sex, Vaginal, Vaginal Sex, Very rough sex, Violence, Violent Sex, Voyeurism, War, Water, Water Sex, Werewolf Biology, Werewolf Culture, Werewolf Mates, Werewolf Politics, Werewolf Senses, Werewolf Sex, Werewolf Turning, Werewolves, Wolf Pack, Wolfed Out Sex, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-17
Updated: 2016-05-13
Packaged: 2018-04-04 20:43:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 81,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4152276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OpheliaAlexiou/pseuds/OpheliaAlexiou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of the omega, Josh Colcord, and his alpha, Henri Barre, as their pack confronts the Hunters tasked with slaying the undead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

                On the first day of June 2023, as the sun crested the horizon, Josh’s eyes fluttered open as he stretched and yawned in his new bed. He sat upright, and looked about the room in the dark, before slipping out of the bed and rising to his feet, moving to the controls of the incandescent lighting. A gentle movement of his fingers, and darkness faded into a sort of romantic, yellow-orange half-light that illuminated the room sufficiently, though not enough to rouse his slumbering lover. Then, as ever, he moved back to the bed, sliding in and under the covers until he was settled between Henri’s thighs, extending his tongue to deliver a long lick from the base to the tip. The Cajun had long-since acclimated to this, and with a soft groan of pleasure his hips shifted a bit, one hand sliding under the covers and fingers writhing into growing strands of dark brown hair. Fingers tightened in his hair, pulling firmly and forcing inch after inch of the alpha’s impressive shaft down his throat as Josh quickly and enthusiastically started to suck.

                “Mm, horny little bitch,” Henri growled sleepily in arousal, eyes opening in a slow flutter as he pushed Josh’s head down on his length, forcing him to take it to the hilt. Forcing might have been somewhat of an overstatement, of course, as keen as the omega was to get his lips to the base, but Henri liked to shove his head down on it and so Josh resisted temptation and let Henri push. In answer to the statement, Josh moaned gently, sending pleasurable vibrations throughout his prick and causing him to moan softly in answer, sitting upright, propped by one hand. As Josh continued to suck underneath the covers, Henri shifted his hips to make it easier, and watched the shifting mound of his omega’s form as Josh laid himself down between his thighs. He pulled Josh forward, feeling silken lips caress the length of his shaft all the way until they wrapped around the base. Just then, a knock came at the door, sounding at once unassertive and yet still resolute, and he moved his free hand to pull the covers off Josh’s head.

                “Yes?”

                “Alpha, Omega, may I come in?” came a smooth, feminine voice, which was instantly recognizable as that of their pack-member, Helle.

                “One moment, the door’s locked,” Henri replied, sighing softly at the interruption, though he was also curious as it was uncommon for Helle to come to their chamber, much less so early in the morning. He pulled Josh’s hair until his cock slipped out of his mate’s mouth, and then both slipped out of the bed and proceeded to the door. While Henri leaned against the wall beside the door, Josh unlocked and opened the door to the brightly lit hallway. Helle stood in the hall, her soft, apricot-coloured skin bare from the soles of her feet up to her scalp, pert curvature of her 36C breasts in full view and the trimmed tangerine hair of her pelvis equally visible.

                “Good morning, Helle,” Josh greeted as he leaned against the door, Helle’s eyes travelling both males down from their eyes to their erect phallic shafts, then back up to their eyes. She made eye contact with Henri’s rings of dark turquoise and then Josh’s dark green irises next, smiling with only a modest nervousness.

                “Good morning, omega. I was, uh, I was wondering if I might possibly, borrow a couple cocks this morning?” she asked tentatively, she knew that probably wasn’t the best way to phrase it the moment she’d said it, and that in all likelihood a human would’ve laughed at the statement, but it was accurate. Josh by himself wouldn’t have been able to satisfy the longing she felt this morning, not for lack of interest or desire, but by simple virtue of the fact he lacked a second prick with which to fuck her.

                “I don’t think I’ve ever heard it phrased that way, but sure,” Henri replied, as Josh stepped back and opened the door a little more for her, “come on in, we’ll see how accommodating we can be...” Helle smiled in appreciation, stepping through the door and looking around at the surprisingly humble room as her omega shut the door behind her.

                “Wow,” Helle breathed; she’d been in their room in the fortress, but she had expected their room in the den to be a little more extravagant. It really made the alpha and omega feel… much more approachable, knowing that they lived exactly as the members of their pack would live.

                “You were expecting more,” Henri whispered in her ear, as he slid up behind her, arms slipping around her to cup her breasts gently as he kissed the left nape of her neck. Her cheeks coloured a bit with an increased pinkness, and she nodded deferentially to her alpha, bending forward at her hips, pressing her rump firmly against his erect cock.

                “Admittedly, yes; I’ve never been in a pack before, but I figured the alpha-omega bedroom in the den would be different than the others,” Helle admitted, looking over her shoulder and beckoning to her omega invitingly. Josh moved over, and as he neared, her hand reached out and wrapped around the shaft of his eight-inch prick, pulling him gently forward until she could kiss the tip firmly.

                “What were you hoping for this morning, Helle?” asked her omega, and she licked him from the base to the plush head with a slow and loving motion of her tongue.

                “I would like alpha to fuck my pussy while I suck your cock, omega,” Helle said honestly, but Josh stroked her hair and tapped her cheek with his cock.

                “Need, Helle. Tell us what you need,” Josh said, and Helle nodded quickly.

                “I need my mouth and pussy fucked at the same time, omega, and then I need a cock in my pussy and a cock in my ass at the same time. I need four loads of my leaders’ cum, one for eating,” Helle answered straightforwardly, looking up at him not as the pack bitch, but as her omega. Henri slid his hips back, drawing his cock across the crease of her ass, until the tip of his cock found the abundantly moistened entrance. He pushed, sliding his cock inside of her sex, spreading her inner walls forcibly around his length, though he wasn’t going to be able to get his entire length in, Helle simply wasn’t that deep.

                As his mate slid into her hips, Josh slid his fingers into her hair and got a firm grip, then pushed his cock into her mouth and began to roll his hips. Helle hadn’t said she needed to suck cock, she said she wanted to suck his cock but _needed_ her mouth fucked, and so Josh gripped firmly with both hands on her head and started thrusting into plush, firm lips. She started to moan gently on his length as her alpha’s cock reached to a depth of nine inches and would not go further, his thrust tossing her firmly forward onto her omega’s shaft. Helle took him to the hilt in her mouth, lips tightening around his base as she swallowed on the part in her throat, sucking as hard as she could on him as he pulled back and slammed his hips firmly into her mouth. Henri moaned softly behind her as she tightened her muscles around his shaft while continuing to put her all into the service of Josh’s cock with her mouth. Her tongue massaged across the underside, applying considerably pressure to his prick as it slid to the hilt in her mouth repeatedly as her body was swayed back and forth between her leaders’ cocks.

                “Don’t cum until I tell you to, love,” Henri said, continuing to hammer into Helle’s slit fast and hard, every thrust shoving Helle’s lips down to the hilt of Josh’s prick with the force. Josh nodded to the instruction, closing his eyes and focusing on self-restraint as he fucked Helle’s mouth as fast and as hard as his hips would allow. He could feel himself pulse lightly, occasionally, but managed to hold back through strength-of-will and the knowledge that his alpha wanted him to wait. He could smell the delightful musk of arousal in the air, the pheromones of his alpha and his pack member, both, as well as his own unmistakable scent. Henri growled low in pleasure as he arched his back a scant two minutes later, and Josh knew from experience that meant his alpha was getting close.

                “Feed her, love,” Henri ordered, and Josh’s pulsing cock soon began to send thick streams into her mouth as Josh pulled back on her hair and slid his hips back, leaving only the plush tip in her mouth. Her hips yanked down on her alpha’s cock, her body arched with a loud moan as cum splattered the inside of her mouth and deep inside her hips at the same time. The delectable fragrance of her affection and happiness filled his nostrils as pheromones of love and elation radiated off her body in equal volume to the lust and arousal she still felt. Her lips sealed around the tip of his cock, welcoming the torrent of thick white cream and moaning softly at the salty-sweet flavour of his release. When it quit pulsing, she swallowed with a soft moan of satisfaction before lowering her head to the hilt, squeezing her lips tight around the base and drawing out the last drops with suction and pressure. As she pulled the last drops out of the plush head, she drew her tongue across it to claim the last of his seed for herself, swallowing it as he slipped free from her mouth.

                Henri slid his hands underneath her once more, cupping her breasts and lifting her up, keeping himself buried as deep inside her pussy as his cock could go. He carried her to the bed and sat comfortably with her on his cock, then gestured with his head for Josh to join him, squeezing Helle’s breasts firmly with his hands. Henri pulled his hips back to allow Josh room to get onto the bed as well, and Helle spread her thighs instinctually as Josh joined them, allowing her omega between her legs as her pussy continued to bulge with her alpha’s cock. Then, Henri lifted up a bit, while he continued to caress her breasts gently, soliciting soft whimpers of arousal and satisfaction from her lips. He pulled his hips back, sliding his now well-lubricated length out of her pussy and thrusting into her ass, causing her gasp and arch sharply against his hands. Her breasts filled his grip forcefully as he drove to the hilt in her tight, deep ass, then motioned Josh onto the bed, where the omega soon laid down on his back.

                Henri laid Helle down on top of him, and she quickly slid her hips down on his cock, taking his shaft to the hilt, easily by comparison to her alpha’s impressive cock. She arched her body between them, Henri’s hands pressing against Josh’s chest as she began to sway herself forward then backward, fucking herself firmly on the two cocks that were buried to their hilts inside her. Helle’s muscles contracted, and Josh sighed softly in pleasure as she tightened on his prick, sliding up from the hilt, and relaxed her muscles as she slid back down on their cocks. Henri gripped tightly onto her hips, pulling his hips back and beginning to fuck her ass hard, the movement causing her to sway harder onto Josh’s prick underneath her. Helle moaned softly in pleasure, clamping her teeth down on the nape of Josh’s neck and vibrating his muscles with the sound, as Henri started to hammer his hips against her forcefully. He pulled Josh’s legs up around Helle, guiding his mate into locking his legs around her hips, her own legs being a bit forward underneath them, as well. Henri smiled down at Josh, stroking the curvature of Helle’s ass between them as he did, and then slid his hips backward until he slipped free of Helle’s ass and thrust his well-lubricated shaft to the hilt in Josh’s ass instead.

                Helle gasped softly as his cock slid out of her, and both Helle and Josh gasped as Henri slammed into his ass, forcing his cock to thrust harder into Helle’s sex. He fucked Josh’s ass hard for several strokes, then slid back from it and slammed his length to the hilt in the blond wolf’s rump, soliciting another gasp of pleasure from her as her alpha resumed ploughing her ass. For a little over a minute, Henri continued to hammer into Helle’s rump, forcing himself to the hilt with every thrust and making her sway hard on Josh’s length, then slid out and thrust to the hilt inside Josh’s tight ass. Once more, he hammered into his lover for several strokes before alternating back into Helle’s, feeling her cumming hard on Josh’s shaft as he fucked them both while she rode her omega’s rod.

                “Ohh, mmm!” moaned Helle, loudly, in pleasure, looking down between their bodies to where Henri’s rod slid out of her and she watched it slam into Josh’s ass again.

                “You like that? You like knowing I’m fucking both your asses at once, Helle?” came the query of her alpha, and she nodded rapidly, hair swaying across Josh’s chest in the process. He slid his left hand off her breast and down, around Josh’s head, yanking him up firmly against that breast and pressing his head against it. Josh’s mouth opened, and he began to suck hard on Helle’s left nipple, causing her to arch hard and thrash violently against both lengths of cock inside her, moaning loudly in arousal. Shortly thereafter, her sex began to pulse hard around Josh’s shaft, again, and she arched sharply as she attained release once more, whimpering as she felt their cocks beginning to pulse inside her. Henri didn’t hold back nor restrain his mate, this time, and after several additional minutes of her riding Josh as Henri fucked both asses, he forced himself to the hilt in Helle’s ass and released. As a torrent of his seed pulsed inside of her from his impressive thirteen-inch length, Josh groaned and relaxed against the bed as his own shaft sent several thick streams of jism into her sex, where it mingled with his alpha’s seed. Helle moaned softly and relaxed against her omega, lifting her head and wreathing their faces in a curtain of dark tangerine strands as she made eye contact with him and smiled. She leaned down, kissing him passionately on the lips, both cocks still buried to the hilt inside of her and rock-hard, and Josh reciprocated her kiss for several seconds.

                “Thank you, omega,” she breathed the words as she pulled up from the kiss, pulling her hips forward, feeling his cock slide out of her and her alpha’s slipping free a few inches later. She sat upright, turning her upper body and kissing her alpha just as passionately on the lips for several seconds as she sat on Josh’s hips, their cocks now pressing together underneath her sex. She broke the kiss several seconds later, smiling up at her alpha appreciatively, and Henri nodded at her in response.

                “You’re welcome, Helle, I’m glad you felt safe coming to us with your needs,” Henri answered warmly, his left hand joining his right hand on her breasts, caressing and gently rolling her nipples between his fingers.

                “If you need something like this again, just let one of us know,” Josh added affectionately, stroking her thighs gently with his hands and fingers, before sliding his hands around to grip her ass once more. Helle moaned softly in pleasure at the feeling of their hands on her, gentle but firm, and nodded her assent slowly to her omega.

                “Yes, omega,” Helle answered, “Thank you.”

                “Come on, let’s go get a bath. Go collect some clothes to put on when our bath’s done,” Henri said, releasing Helle so she could slip out of their bed and hurry to her own room. She closed the door gently behind her, letting them have a moment of privacy as Henri slipped off the bed as well, taking Josh’s hand and pulling him along. He pinned his lover against the wall and kissed him passionately on the lips for nearly a minute before pulling back and looking into his eyes lovingly.

                “That was unexpected, and phenomenal,” Henri admitted, and Josh grinned, nodding quickly back to him in agreement with that estimation.

                “Yeah, I wasn’t expecting her to want to be double-stuffed like that,” Josh said, as Henri stepped back, pulling him from the wall and nudging him toward his wardrobe. Josh quickly gathered some clothes for himself, while Henri was picking some of his own, and soon the two stepped into the hall, where Helle waited, breasts covered by an armful of clothes. The moistness of her thighs made it obvious she was freshly fucked, though she was unashamed of having just taken four loads of her leaders’ seed into her body, and walked with them the short distance to the baths.

                The den’s bathhouse was large, the bath itself being inspired by the bathhouses of Hellenic antiquity in places like Athens, Delphi, or Sparta. The bath sprawled over an area large enough for a small swimming pool, filling quickly with water that was steaming-hot as they set their clothes in a ventilated room where the towels were kept. Helle slid into the water and quickly began to wash herself, finishing with shampooing her hair as Josh and Henri stepped into the hot pool themselves. As they finished washing, the door opened, and Edmund leaned in through the opening, lava-red hair swaying gently as he did so.

                “Alpha, omega?” came the questioning voice, continuing when they looked over to him, “We are receiving a communication from the aide of a member of the Dead Congress, requesting a videoconference on behalf of a senator there. What shall I tell him?”

                “Tell him we’ll be available in six minutes,” Henri said as he pulled himself out of the bath, and then helped Josh out of the bath as well. Edmund nodded as they stepped into the ventilated room to dry off and dress, closing the door as Helle continued to recline and relax in the water, letting it soothe her muscles.

                A few minutes later, dried and dressed, Henri and Josh stepped into the security centre of the wolf-den, where Edmund was seated at the controls, tapping away at his task. Henri nodded as Edmund looked over at him, indicating they were ready, and Edmund nodded in answer before beginning to tap a few more keys on the console right in front of him.

                “All right, Luis, we’re all set on our end,” Edmund said to someone on the other side, then half-turned in his seat to motion the massive LCD flat-screen mounted on the wall behind him. It was a solid four feet tall and six feet across, allowing a considerable amount of videoconferencing if needed, though for now, it would only be with a single individual, presumably.

                The screen illuminated to demonstrate Luis sitting at a console at the bottom left of the screen, visible in only a peripheral manner, the room itself seemingly well lit by natural luminescence. Luis looked like he was a young man of roughly twenty-two, black-haired and green-eyed with chocolate-coloured skin, dressed in an ordinary, semiformal dress shirt with a navel-length black tie, and black dress pants. Behind him, there was an eight-seat mahogany table, in front of which stood a light-skinned male who looked like he was roughly thirty-seven years old, having otter brown hair and matching eyes, wearing a formal suit. On their side, Edmund was invisible behind a partition that ensured the videoconference screen would not be able to catch any of the security camera feeds.

                “Good morning,” said the man in greeting, “I am Aldrich Volandt, of the Dead Congress. When I heard that a wolf pack had been deployed to Birmingham, it came as a very pleasant surprise.”

                “A pleasure to meet you, senator,” Henri replied, “I am Henri Barre, pack alpha, and this is my omega, Josh Colcord. How can we assist the Dead Congress, today?” The senator nodded in answer to the wolves’ introduction, then continued when they came straight to the point with the alpha’s question.

                “I love wolves,” the senator replied with a sigh of relief, “so direct and to-the-point, it’s a pleasant refresher. Well, on that issue, the Dead Congress has several hundred constituents in Birmingham. Primarily ghosts, and zombies like Luis and myself, but there’re a few others in the area, as well, who might be able to give you some assistance with this. Recently, several ghosts have reported seeing suspected members of the Necropolis Corps in Birmingham, and a fair number of zombie residences have been the victims of arson attacks, ensuring a fiery second-death. Unfortunately, we don’t have a lot of skilled warriors in the area, and we need some assistance in ending the Hunter attacks on our people.”

                “We’ll look into it, senator. Send us whatever information you have available, and we’ll do whatever we can to neutralize the Hunter threat,” Henri assured him, and the senator nodded his appreciation promptly.

                “Thank you. Luis, send the pack our files,” Aldrich said. Luis quickly began tapping way on his console, and a file transfer bar appeared at the bottom right corner of the screen. It swept through quickly, indicating that several gigabytes of data were transferred over the course of about two minutes.

                “Good luck, gentlemen,” the senator said, before the screen promptly went black as the senator’s aid cut the connection to allow the wolf pack to get to work.

                “Edmund, print out all documents and bring them upstairs so we can review them in the central hall,” Henri said, and the redhead nodded quickly in answer.

                “Yes, alpha,” he replied, as the pair moved out of the room and then proceeded upstairs, smelling the pleasant aroma of breakfast cooking as Valentin moved about in the kitchen.

                Once most of the pack had gathered in the dining room, Edmund walked in with a manila folder that bulged thick with papers. He set the folder on a small portable cabinet behind the seats of his alpha and omega then took his own seat, as Valentin walked in with a platter of fresh pancakes. The pancakes steamed as Valentin distributed them evenly, a plate of three for each of them, buttered and with a bottle of maple syrup and dishes of powdered sugar, blackberry, raspberry, and blueberry topping, all of which organic.

                “So, first lovers,” Josh said after a bite of pancakes generously covered in blueberry topping, “How old when you got your first boyfriend or girlfriend, best and worst thing you remember about them? Cass, for you, how old were you when you first realized this sex thing wasn’t for you and that you identified as genderless? I’ll start, since it was my question, after all. I was about sixteen and a half, he was about six months older than me and his name was David Druian, we’d dated for a couple months and on his seventeenth birthday he asked if I would be comfortable having sex with him, I said yeah. He pulled me to his room immediately and we fucked even before the birthday cake was served, his parents never even realized.” Here, Josh paused in recollection, thinking about the guy who was probably around twenty-two years old now, then took a breath and continued.

                “He could laugh, though. I always remember that, I always loved the sound when he laughed, it was infectious and alluring, it made people want him,” Josh continued, “I didn’t mind that, so much. I’ve never been the possessive sort, so that was never a concern for me that people wanted him or that he might be intimate with other people. David assured me he wasn’t fucking anyone but me, though, and we continued dating until about two weeks before I turned eighteen. Found out that he was screwing a couple other guys and a couple chicks, too, that’s definitely the worst thing I remember about him: he cheated, for no reason whatsoever. He whined around school, after that, that he missed my mouth, because I had the best mouth out of anyone he’d ever gotten blown by.” He rolled his shoulders a little bit, and offered a hint of a chuckle at the bit about fact that David had realized only too late what he was missing out on, what he’d cost himself.

                “My first lover was a woman named Antoinette Chausse, we were both sixteen years into therian juvenility,” Henri admitted, “Yeah, I didn’t have sex at all until I was a total age of thirty-eight. She was super smart, and whenever she wasn’t horny, our conversations could last for six hours on our days off from the training sessions. Course, when Antoinette wanted sex? Well, that was something different altogether and I hate to say it but the sexual dynamic was the worst thing I remember. I like sex a lot, of course, and while I do like rough and gentle both, I always prefer strictly consensual sex, and Antoinette? Well, she liked what she called rage-fucking, hate-fucking, breakup sex, makeup sex, she instigated arguments just so we could fuck it out. She would call it off for a week to have a breakup fuck, and then came back so we could have a makeup fuck, and after about a year, well, I’d had about enough of that. I’m not fond of emotional rollercoasters, at all. She decided to roam for a couple centuries as a lone wolf, not an exile just someone that survived on their own for a couple hundred years.”

                “Lyle was fifteen, I was fourteen, Zachary was fourteen,” Edmund said, “we kind of experimented with each other as a trio, figured that way our parents wouldn’t suspect, right? Zachary was gorgeous to look at, but Zach’s real beauty was on the inside: sweet natured, compassionate, generous, and kindhearted. If I had to say anything negative, it’s that maybe he was a little naïve, it was cute but it was bad for him. We promised ourselves we would honour him by not having sex with each other again until we found our way into a pack, and then only once the pack was deployed.”

                “It was all really mutual, sort of like our relationship with you, omega,” Lyle continued, “except that Zach didn’t like being taken hard, he wasn’t a bitch at all. I think switch might be the best way to describe what Zach was.”

                “It was about ninety-three years after I was bitten,” Valentin said, “My breasts were finally gone, my cock had grown in fully, and Duilio Antonucci was still lingering about the fortress, so he offered himself to me. I learned quickly the pleasures of a male bitch; I think the only thing I can remember about Duilio that I could describe as being a negative? He’s sort of an indolent sort when it came to the idea of leaving the fortress, he’s never tried to join a pack as long as I’ve known him, he’s up to date on his combat training but he just has no desire whatsoever to depart from the fortress. I think he likes lingering around honing his fighting and servicing people’s sexual needs.”

                “I was probably six years old when I realised that I didn’t really identify as a boy or a girl, it took me another four years to realise that I preferred to think of myself as ungendered,” Cass started, “I started to realise around thirteen, sex didn’t really appeal to me. My parents were constantly lecturing me about the sinfulness of sex outside of marriage, the wickedness of sexual pleasure, and I just thought that was the stupidest thing I’d ever heard. I’m not asexual due to some moronic religious stigma about sex, I’m asexual because I’m asexual, it’s how I was born, sex just doesn’t do anything for me at all. When I was twenty-one, I met this guy named Floris Cruchlow, and he told me he could cure the depression I was experiencing because of my breasts and my ovulation. He explained that he was a werewolf, and if he bit me and made me a werewolf, eventually, it would fix what was wrong with my body as compared to the way I wanted to see myself. He explained my breasts would eventually be gone, I wouldn’t ever have to deal with monthly discomfort again, and I could embrace my asexuality without anyone hassling me about it. That seemed a phenomenal deal to me, and it meant I wouldn’t have to deal with suitors or lectures from my parents anymore, either.”

                “I’m glad that you were able to meet someone that could help you,” Josh said, “Sounds kind of like you and Valentin have that in common.”

                “Yeah,” Cass said with a faint smile on zir face, glancing over at Valentin warmly, “I hadn’t really thought about that. As far as I know, Floris is still alive, still with his pack, as they continue moving around Western Europe, relocating every ten years or thereabouts.”

                “I’m what they call a purebred,” Hildegarde started, “My parents are Andromaque and Reinmund Verkuilen. I grew up in the fortress, moving when the Ancients decided to relocate by vacating one headquarters whose location was close to being discovered. When I was seventeen, I met this girl named Shannon Aquilanti, beautiful girl, straight black hair and this incredibly sexy olive skin and blue-green eyes, and we very quickly ended up having sex. I think my favourite thing about her is that she made extraordinarily good pasta, her cooking was seriously amazing, and we always ate together because she loved to cook and I love to eat. I think the only thing that ever bothered me was that Shannon really wanted kids, and I was simply not ready, so eventually we reached the mutual decision to split ways. She’s found a mate and had children now, but I still remember her cooking with fondness and I know her children are eating heartily, so they’re well nourished, for sure.”

                “I learned a lot about my sexuality from the very public lives of Donatien Alphonse François de Sade and Leopold von Sacher-Masoch, and when I reached a therian age of one hundred twenty years. That’s when I met a man that was willing to experiment with the newly coined terms of sadism and masochism, and wide range of other kinks,” Akoko said, “His name was Faramund Ankenbauer, sweetheart German wolf, very submissive, but not a bitch by any means. He was very much interested in consistent, committed relationships, not the kind of sexual liberality of being a bitch. I’d say he was probably polyamorous and okay with the idea of multiple people, but he wants more control in the arrangement than a bitch usually does, since I mean, well, you’re a bitch, you know.” Josh nodded in answer, since she was accurate in her assessment: as a bitch, he didn’t mind providing sexual pleasure to someone that he wasn’t in any kind of otherwise intimate relationship with. He had no problem letting someone use his body as a way for them to attend to their sexual needs, especially not if his alpha was okay with them using him like that.

                “I only lost my virginity twenty years ago,” Helle admitted at last, “Kind of because of my Mormon parents, and how they tried to force me to marry some old pervert because their religion said it was okay at the time they were practicing. I am not a Mormon, but I was very happy when I learned that the legitimate Mormon Church had banned the practice of polygamy. So, I decided that when I lost my virginity, it would be on my own terms and my own terms only, that I would choose someone who was interested in me where I was mutually interested in them, and where both of us were on the same page. Of course, that turned out to take over a hundred years, but that’s okay, I didn’t mind at all, and my first? He was worth the wait, absolutely. His name was Arcangelo Galantucci, and I would say his name turned out to be highly accurate, because he was certainly an angelic lover and definitely a sensuous and tender lover. I don’t think I could say anything bad about him, honestly; he was looking for mellow, intense sex. He admitted that he was looking for a permanent arrangement, and assured me he was completely okay with the idea of being intimate with me when I was simply looking to have a good experience.”

                “It sounds like he was looking for a nice person and you were looking for a nice experience,” Josh said, and Helle nodded promptly in answer.

                “Absolutely,” she agreed, “I like to think we both got exactly what we needed from the arrangement, we had sex a few times, and then we called it quits and continued to train together in our pistol marksmanship.”

                “So, alpha, what’s in the folder? We got our first assignment in Birmingham?” asked Valentin as he cleared the table when they finished their breakfast, soon returning to his own seat at the table. Henri nodded as Josh turned, reached back, and picked up the manila folder to place it on the table in front of them, now that the morning meal was finished and the table was cleared.

                “Yes, a senator from the Dead Congress has requested our assistance, and sent us their files. Hunters are here, soldiers from Necropolis Corps, and a number of zombies have already had their second-lives prematurely terminated through the commission of arsons,” Henri said, as Josh opened the folder, standing and passing out duplicates of some of the most basic information that he found. He also passed a handful of papers to his alpha, which Henri straightened into a neat stack in front of him, and started to examine them intensely.

                “Our local members of the undead community whom the senator thought would be helpful in our efforts are a Mummy named Zuleika Reza, a Revenant named Aristos Michel, a Revenant named Marcel Armand, and a Zombie named Shawn Sylvain. The Zombie’s listed as a mobile sniper, similar to what one of our Pathfinders would be except with less institutionalized training,” Henri said, conveying the basic summaries of information he was reading, “One of the Revenants is a Frank; expertise in firearms, bows, crossbows, thrown weapons, and demolitions. The other is a Spartan, expertise in swordfighting, spearmanship, expertise with clubs, axes, nunchaku, maces, and has developed a unique martial art that combined elements of several different schools, cultivated one century ago.”

                “What about the Mummy?” asked Valentin curiously, and Josh looked over the paper, now having returned to his seat.

                “Female, Persian,” Josh replied, examining the information available, “talented in reconnaissance, scouting, securing perimeters, and trapping, with skill in defensive and ambush demolitions. She is highly trained in jujutsu and swordplay, armed with two single-edged swords which she has a talent for telekinetically reinforcing.”

                “Sounds like a skilled combatant,” Valentin said with a prompt nod.

                “When do we meet them?” asked Helle inquisitively.

                “Edmund, arrange a meeting with these four, outside Pratt City Library, on the corner of Dugan Avenue and Hibernian Street,” Henri said. Edmund nodded, rising to his feet and immediately collecting the information back into the manila folder before returning to the wolf-den’s security centre to arrange the meet.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The continuing story of the omega, Josh Colcord, and his alpha, Henri Barre, as their pack confronts the multitude of the Necropolis Corps, the Hunter's Soldiery's slayers of the undead.

                On the day before the full moon, Henri and Josh left the den in the Aventador, to meet their undead allies at the Pratt City Library, pulling in at 9:54 AM. They discovered that their new allies were likewise early for their 10:00 AM meeting, having arrived in a silver-ice-metallic 2017 Camaro and a shark-grey-metallic 2018 Corvette Stingray. Each vehicle showed the trademark indicators their fuel injection systems were replaced with hydroelectric aerosolar systems developed by one of their top scientists. Standing at the vehicles, there were four individuals, three males and one female, the female a bronze-skinned woman with elbow-length black hair and eyes of Dartmouth green pigment. The woman stood five feet eight inches, roughly one hundred sixty pounds, and looked to be about twenty-eight years old. She was dressed in a short-sleeved white cotton blouse, knee-length shorts of dark midnight blue denim, socks of ankle-high white cotton, and grey-and-white sneakers.

                One of the men was five feet ten inches in height, probably a hundred eighty-five pounds. He was dressed in light blue jeans and a light blue denim jacket, but shirtless, with sneakers of white, light grey, and dark grey. The man was lean in physical appearance with a laidback demeanour, a well-tanned Caucasian with wavy, golden yellow hair of chin-length and eyes of an Egyptian blue colour. Each had a scent of fresh cleanliness about them, but the woman’s form also had a faint smell of leather, while the yellow-haired man smelled ever so slightly of fertile loam. The other two men, under the clean smell of fresh soap, there was the metallic scent of tempered steel.

                One of the men was olive-skinned eyes of a duke blue colour and shaggy, chin-length black hair, standing an even six feet two hundred pounds. He looked about twenty-six years old, dressed in a pair of light grey ankle boots of steel-toed leather, shirtless in the June heat with a pair of thigh length shorts of dark blue denim. His chest was beyond well-muscled; he had the look of a heavily built warrior from the front lines of antiquity, a man whose muscles came not from pointless bodybuilding but from surviving the forge of war. The other man had a similarly war-forged look, clothed in a pair of ankle-length jeans of medium blue and buff-coloured leather boots with steel accents, accompanied by a formfitting short-sleeved shirt of white cotton. He also wore a jacket of medium blue denim, standing at five feet eleven inches and one hundred ninety-five pounds, his pale complexion accented by vivid amber irises and zinnwaldite brown hair in a silky, shoulder-length ponytail.

                “Zuleika Reza,” the woman said in self-introduction as the two wolves approached, extending her hand and shaking hands with each of them.

                “Shawn Sylvain,” said the well-tanned man with hair of a golden-yellow colour, shaking hands with Henri, then Josh, as well.

                “Aristos Michel,” greeted the olive-skinned Spartan, likewise shaking hands with the alpha, then the omega, afterward, nodding cordially.

                “Marcel Armand,” said the Frankish Revenant, finally, as mirrored the handshaking of the others in greeting.

                “Henri Barre, pack alpha, and my omega, Josh Colcord,” Henri answered in self-introduction while he shook hands with the fourth and final member of the quartet.

                “Will we be returning to your wolf-den, or have you set up an alternate safehouse?” asked Shawn, and Henri nodded to the part about the wolf-den.

                “Yes, the den is currently less than half-occupied, so there is still room for you to each have a separate room, and that will streamline the process of investigating the Hunter activity and ending it,” Henri replied, to which Zuleika nodded as she stood near her corvette.

                “Sounds good to me,” Zuleika replied, “Shall we go at once?” Henri nodded, and as Zuleika and Shawn got into her corvette, the two revenants got into the Spartan’s Camaro. Moments later, the two grey vehicles followed the black Lamborghini out of the parking lot and out into the country until they reached the turnoff midway between the Daniel Payne Middle School and Daniel Payne Industrial Park. They drove slowly behind the black roadster as it went smoothly down the ramp into the subterranean garage, soon coming to park the vehicles.

                “So, I’ve heard wolf-packs usually include a member whose role includes the function of being essentially a sex toy for the rest of the pack,” said Shawn, “Does your pack have one of those?”

                “Yeah,” Josh replied, “the correct term is bitch, though, not sex toy. Bitches are also a highly respected part of our society and our culture.”

                “Ah, okay. Sorry, I wasn’t aware,” the zombie replied apologetically, “So, who is the bitch for the pack?”

                “That would be Josh,” Henri answered as he opened the door to the stairwell and Josh walked through it first, leading them down, despite the surprised stare from the zombie, and from the Persian woman, as well.

                “I definitely need to learn more about the therian cultures,” Zuleika admitted as she stepped into the stairwell, and proceeded down the steps with the rest of them, Henri soon closing the door behind him as Josh opened the door at the bottom of the stairs. Once they moved into the great central hall, they were quick to introduce the revenants, the zombie, and the mummy, to the seven members of their pack.

 

* * *

 

 

                The rest of the second was spent getting the four newcomers settled in, and on the morning of the third, the group of now eleven members was seated around the dining room table. As they sat about the table over breakfast, all silently enjoyed the meal that had been provided by Valentin, a repeat delivery of fresh, healthy pancakes.

                “So, Henri,” said Shawn after a bite from his stack of raspberry-drizzled pancakes, “Is Josh… well, I mean, in Josh’s role as a bitch, what’s his, ah… availability?”

                “You’ll have to forgive my youth and unfamiliarity with the, uh, biology of the undead,” Josh began, “but in being dead, doesn’t that mean…”

                “My cock still works just fine,” Shawn assured him, his tone of voice informative but not defensive, “Since I am a zombie, I simply have to focus on that, but sex is still a fun way to pass the time. I wouldn’t say I _need_ sex, but then again, I don’t need to eat pancakes, either, but if I concentrate on it, I can still process food, even more completely than I could when I was alive, in fact. Zombies don’t… you know… have any use for a water-closet.”

                “So if you concentrate on your hips in general, you’ll be able to experience sexual satisfaction, arousal, and the associated culmination,” Josh deduced, and Shawn nodded in answer.

                “Yes, that is why I was wondering about your availability,” Shawn replied, forthright in his interest in Josh.

                “Well, I would be comfortable with any of you having access to him if you are interested, but I would want to first know you better, to know more about you than the very basic information in the files we were provided with,” Henri replied, and Shawn nodded.

                “That’s fair. Well, I was born in Horsham in 1812, son of Gervaise Sylvain and Aubreyanna Harker,” Shawn started, “They wanted a common, ordinary name for their son, so they chose Shawn. I kind of like it, I mean it’s better than being named Rexx, Patch, or Moody, as if I were some sort of pet. Lived a rather ordinary life for the first eighteen years, parents died and I was left basically orphaned without anyone in particular to care about me, so in 1831, signed up for membership with the police. I was killed in action in 1835 enforcing the newly passed Cruelty to Animals Act, which outright banned bear baiting and cockfighting, and prohibited maltreatment of pets, by a rancher I caught raising hounds under inhumane conditions. Rather than go to jail, he chose to kill a police officer. When I rose from the dead a few days later as a zombie, I came back, and he almost had a heart attack when he saw me, and when he found that he couldn’t shoot me dead again, he tried to run. I collected all needed evidence of his animal cruelty and his murder of a police officer, put on a hooded cloak, and anonymously delivered it to the police department, then watched for a few months as he was arrested and convicted.”

                “It was a very satisfying feeling,” Shawn concluded, “Especially since he wasn’t executed. He was sentenced to life in prison, and died about forty-eight years later. I visited him annually to remind him of what had brought him to forty-eight years of miserable incarceration; our prisons weren’t exactly the Ritz Carlton back then. Anyhow, after I saw to it he was no longer able to continue his criminal misdeeds I picked up marksmanship and found employment as a military freelancer; the British military wasn’t particular needing about my personal information once I gave them a demonstration of how accurate my firing is. I took honourable commissions only, serving as a military sniper only in those military engagements where I felt that Britain was in the right of things, started to carry a pistol as I began to encounter Hunters in 1871. Finally felt like I had to relocate in 1953 when a couple dozen of them came to re-kill me, moved to Birmingham that year.”

                “I was born in the year humans today refer to as 1,482 years Before the Common Era,” Zuleika started, which placed her age as three thousand five hundred and five years, “during the Kidinuid Dynasty of Persia in the epoch of classical antiquity, in the reign of Kidinu, King of Anshan and Susa. Died when I was twenty-eight years old, when it was discovered that I refused the marital advances of a man who thought to have me by force, by using telekinesis to throw him out the second-floor window of my bedchamber. My father said I had shamed the family, and that the only way to restore the family’s honour would be for me to accept the husband. When I refused, my father killed me, and then he sought to shame my spirit by burying me in an unmarked grave in the desert sand, where I was reborn. I spent the next several centuries haunting Persian society, vindicating abused women and punishing abusive sons of bitches.”

                “I was born in Sparta 758 years Before the Common Era, during the last days of the reign of King Teleclus, before he was murdered by the Messenians,” Aristos said calmly, “I grew to manhood during the time of his successor, King Alcamenes. I entered military service during the end of his reign and served most of my military career during the time of King Polydorus, who reigned long and well for seventy-six years, an impressive lifespan during that time, and particularly for a Spartan King. I died when I was twenty-six, and I died what we in our culture then described as a beautiful death, a death on the field of battle. In fact, my death was so beautiful and glorious I refused to stay dead.”

                “I was born eighty-one years Before the Common Era, in the region which was then referred to as northwest Gaul. I’m one of the few people who remembers the Gaulish language, which vanished a few centuries later,” Marcel began, “I died at the age of thirty, in one of the final battles at the end of the Gallic Wars where Julius Caesar completed the conquest of our homeland. I refused to die however, and won the battle for my people, though no one else survived the battle on my side. I ripped through the Romans with the ferocity and the vengeance of our dead and crushed the whole of the Roman Legion that had come to the battle, and then our healers told me that there was nothing they could do for me. They said that by the time the battle ended, I’d been dead for a couple hours. I spent the next five centuries wandering about Gaul, killing any Roman soldier that crossed my path, honing a mastery of bows, crossbows, and the art of throwing any weapon that could be thrown hard enough to kill someone when it hit them.”

                “While we’re sharing, is there anything you would like to know about the pack?” asked Josh, to which their guests responded by falling into a thoughtful silence.

                “Hmm,” mused Shawn, contemplative.

                “Who was your most favourite, and most disliked, military commanders in history, and why?” asked Aristos.

                “My favourite military commander throughout history has to be Jeanne d’Arc of Domrémy, for many reasons, only the least of which being that she’s French. She saved France, she demonstrated that a woman can have a brilliant mind for tactics and warfare, she was highly intelligent and a competent speaker, and she gave her life to unite France and liberate our homeland,” Henri answered, “My most disliked military commander throughout history, of course, is Napoléon Bonaparte. Primarily because his defeat at Waterloo and the military imbecilic campaign to invade Russia both reflected poorly upon France as a whole, despite the fact that in terms of his political leadership, the man was a standup servant of the French people. He did a lot of things that were exceptionally good for France and more broadly for Europe, and his unfortunate reward was to be the victim of murder by arsenic poisoning.” Marcel nodded agreeably to that statement, as a fellow Frenchman.

                “I don’t know a whole lot about military commanders,” Josh admitted, “but I think my favourite would have to be George Smith Patton, since he was a brilliant general and helped win World War II. I think my most disliked of course would have to be Hitler. Mainly because he caused the death of millions of innocent victims, millions of soldiers on top of that, and then caused an escalation and proliferation in the pattern of racist supremacism. Even after suicide, his legacy continues to result in millions of deaths because of that last part.”

                “Wait, white supremacism offends you?” asked Zuleika, slightly interrupting the answering of Aristos’ query.

                “Of course I do, not just because the idea of white supremacism is moronic, the deluded mentality one group is superior to another because of something as insignificant as skin colouration, but because it never stops at that point. Even if it stopped there, it would offend me, but the average white supremacist movement further tacks on the inclusion of several other modes of supremacism,” Josh replied, “Mainly, because it almost always ends up being hyper-specific to an extremely precise subgrouping of light-skinned persons. The bigotry of it is offensive to me, but the hypocrisy of how they act toward Caucasians they deem unworthy of so-called ‘whiteness,’ just amplifies the stupidity of their entire mentality.”

                “I’ll agree about Hitler,” said Akoko, “my favourite would probably be Leonidas of Sparta, though, because what he did with three hundred men was damned impressive.”

                “I would have accompanied him, but it would have drawn attention and it would have naturally compromised the secrecy of the masquerade,” Aristos agreed, though he probably could have survived the battle of Thermopylae.

                “I think I am as impressed by Themistocles as I am by Leonidas,” Valentin offered, “His accomplishments were remarkable, as well. My most disliked military commander in history, would obviously have to be Xerxes, since to some extent, he kicked the sleeping dragon of Greece and stirred it to conquest. For all that the Hellenization of the East was good for all, insomuch as that Alexander distributed education and technological understanding evenly from Greece to Pakistan.”

                “That was my complaint against that imbecile, as well,” Zuleika agreed, “Albeit, as you say, Persia benefitted just as much from Hellenic rule as every other country did under Alexander’s rule. He was actually an excellent King, all things considered, in addition to being an excellent military commander; it’s too bad he allowed his ego to pull him further than his soldiers were willing to follow.”

                “For us,” Lyle said, “our favourite military commander has to be William Wallace, because he defied English authority, and that was important to us because England harassed both of our native ancestral homelands. Maybe it’s a little unfair to be upset about that centuries later, but, Great Britain should only exist as a united nation of the four kingdoms of the islands and then only if all four constituent parts of the United Kingdom are represented in a fair and equal manner. So far, we don’t really feel like that’s been achieved, though with the European Union making progress on continental unification, that’s looking increasingly like it might be a reasonable future for us to hope for, for those nations our families came from.”

                “Our most disliked military commanders are probably where we differ,” Edmund continued, “For me, it will always be Oliver Cromwell, because he invaded my ancestral homeland of Ireland. Lyle, understandably, most detests King Edward the First, who invaded Scotland during the time of William Wallace. He is the one responsible for the execution of William Wallace on accusations of ‘treason,’ an illegitimate indictment given that Wallace owed England no allegiance of any sort. Edward, for years, systematically undermined the authority of the King he had himself put on the Scottish throne when to avoid a civil war Scotland requested he arbitrate the dispute, and similarly undermined Scotland’s rightful independence.”

                “I agree with Henri, my favourite military commander is absolutely Jeanne d’Arc,” added Hildegarde, “My most disliked would need to be Hernán Cortés, for the crimes he committed against the people who already dwelt in the New World when he arrived, for which reason I hold Francisco Pizarro in similar disdain.”

                “I agree about Cortés and Pizarro,” said Cass in agreement with zir friend, “my favourite military commander, by contrast, would be Macbeth, a competent Scottish King who was greatly and rightfully admired, despite the deep mischaracterization of him in Shakespeare’s fictional tale.”

                “My favourite is Marcus Aurelius, regarded as the last of the ‘Five Good Emperors’ of Rome,” added Helle, “Anyone who tried to be a good person in Rome, though, I think I would have generally liked, since most of Rome in the end was a debauched, depraved, writhing mass of corruption and egotism that got what it justly deserved. I think I would place my most disliked as Stalin. He was far worse than Hitler and far more of a butcher, the only reason the western world didn’t care about what that Russian savage was doing was because he kept it in his pants and pissed in his own back yard, only. Hitler, metaphorically speaking, was by comparison, waving his dick in everyone’s face and screaming ‘suck my dick, mother fuckers!’ Naturally, Stalin’s quiet brutality was less offensive than Hitler’s boastful barbarism.” Josh coughed and chuckled at the way she said it, but Helle wasn’t really the sort to pull punches, and she had a damned good point.

                “You have a point, unfortunately,” Aristos nodded, “I was actually in Russia at the time, and I had to leave, I couldn’t stand being unable to make any impact against the overwhelming tide of institutionalized barbarism. Several million did die during World War II, but Stalin was singularly responsible for the death of twenty million people just in his own country, just Russians, and that’s a _minimum_ estimate. Stalin was a fucking monster.”

                “Mission Status Priority 4, elimination of Hunter extremists,” Henri announced, turning the conversation to the reason for the presence of the undead allies in the wolf-den, “What do we know about Hunter activity in the area?”

                “Hunter activity seems to be originating from the direction of Mount Olive,” Shawn replied, “Hunters come in from the north, retreat north. When some of my fellow zombies started to be killed in arson attacks, I camped quietly about two and a half miles from a friend’s house, laid there for six days looking down the sniper scope. I saw twenty Hunters approach, more than I had the rounds for; pistols, submachine guns, ten-gallon jug of gasoline.”

                “They entered three from each side, front door, back door, side windows, subdued the inhabitants by gunfire,” Shawn continued, “Then, they emptied the gasoline canister throughout the ground floor, extracted from the building, and ignited the gasoline. Gunshot wounds are not commonly a contributing factor to expiry of second life expectancy in zombies, gunshot wounds are not fatal to a zombie and we are able to regenerate from them. However, gunshots to the ankles, knees, wrists, and elbows, are incapacitating and time-consuming to recover from, which provided Hunters with the time needed to ensure the success of their operation. Operation results: home incinerated, all four inhabitants cremated. I remained silent and still, near the area they call Cardiff, watching. The Hunters left east by northeast, they headed in the direction of the Mount Olive area.”

                Just then, a deep, resonant bass alarm sounded throughout the wolf-den, a whooping siren that filled the entire den with the sound, then three seconds of silence, then three seconds more of sound. Edmund quickly got up and shot out of the room to the wolf-den’s security centre, trailed by Josh while Henri remained calm.

                “Report,” Josh said to Edmund, as he arrived in the security centre just a quarter-minute behind.

                “Unscheduled arrival, singular, north sector,” Edmund reported, tapping one monitor and triggering it to fill the videoconference screen on the other wall, revealing a male standing in the middle of the wolf-den’s nearby moon-meadow. The male looked humanlike, but he was also unmistakable in his awareness that he was being watched, and he simply stood there, as if he were waiting for something.

                “Who is he?”

                “Running facial identification scan,” Edmund replied to his omega, furrowing his eyebrows, “He’s certainly making it easy for us, he’s looking directly at one camera and offering full side profile to one of the other cameras.” A few seconds later, the camera angle shrank to half-size of the screen as a photograph of the individual appeared on the other half of the screen, looking like it was taken in a metropolitan area.

                “Wocawsu Coven, Exile, Donovan Slade. Warlock, adult, 172 years old, 137 years exiled,” Edmund reported, “Damn surprising he’s still alive after this long.” Josh nodded and immediately proceeded to return to the dining hall while Edmund continued to maintain observance of the exile.

                “Exiled warlock, moon-meadow,” Josh reported, “He’s just standing there, like he’s waiting for something.”

                “Helle, Hildegarde, Akoko,” Henri said, and the women rose to their feet quickly, “Approach with caution.” The women nodded in answer and quickly proceeded to the armoury, collecting their guns and switching to combat gear, then ascended the stairwell to the garage, opening the ramp and proceeding out rapidly. As they neared the road, Helle and Hildegarde having their guns in-hand, Josh reentered the security centre and watched, a feral narrowing of his irises as he observed their approach. The pack’s moon-meadow was less than five hundred feet north from the den, once you stepped onto solid ground beyond the garage ramp.

                As he watched, Donovan Slade turned in the direction of the three women as they approached, hands lifting before he could have seen them and before they could see him. He interlaced his fingers behind his head, and crouched low, remaining in that position as the three women approached and until Akoko pulled out a pair of silver handcuffs, clicking them on his wrists. A faint hint of steam appeared in the high-definition cameras as his skin touched the silver, and he winced a bit, quickly pulling his sleeves between his wrists and the cuffs. It minimized his mobility a bit more, eliminating any chance of him trying to slip out of them, but it prevented him from getting severe silver-burns on his wrists. Humans thought werewolves were vulnerable to silver. In truth, witches and warlocks were the ones seared by skin contact with silver.

                He watched as they brought the surprisingly passively apprehended warlock exile back to the garage of the wolf-den, stopping in the garage and waiting there.

                “Open cell door slat one,” Josh instructed, and Edmund nodded, pressing a short sequence of buttons. Then, with the grating sound of one stony material against another, a secret doorway opened halfway down the staircase that connected the great central hall to the garage. The women quickly moved into that section, the wolf-den cellblock, as led Donovan to a chair at a table, surrounded by twelve simple cells that were about twelve feet on a side. He sat and waited patiently, uncomplaining, as Josh nodded to Edmund, then grabbed a manila folder and exited to move to the containment facility where exiles and prisoners would be held until they could be picked up.

                As the door opened for him, Josh stepped in and nodded to his pack members, who withdrew to three corners of the room, while the omega walked to the table. He pulled out the chair directly across from the exile and sat down, placing the manila folder on the table and opening it calmly, taking a breath to steel himself for his first time doing an apprehension interview. Fingers slid slowly around the stem of a simple ballpoint pen, and then he looked up from the papers to Donovan, who sat in patient silence, passive and calm.

                “Good afternoon, Donovan, my name is Josh Colcord,” he introduced himself as coolly as possible.

                “Hello, Wolf Omega,” said the warlock politely, nodding respectfully, “For the purposes of the ETAF, yes, I confirm that my name is Donovan Slade, exile from the Wocawsu Coven. I am one hundred seventy-two years old, and I was exiled one hundred thirty-seven years ago.”

                Josh nodded as his pen moved across the paper in front of him at the top of the stack.

 

                _Exile Termination or Apprehension Form_

_Name: Donovan Slade_

_Origin: Wocawsu Coven_

_Age: 172 years_

_Exile: 137 years_

_Status: Apprehended_

                “Are you aware of the nature of the criminal act which resulted in your exile?”

                “Yes,” Donovan replied, “I caused the death of 113 humans through a willful act of witchery.” Josh nodded in answer, continuing to write as he spoke again.

                “Do you have a statement you want recorded in accompaniment to your apprehension?” the omega inquired.

                “Yes, please,” Donovan Slade said, then waited until Josh nodded before he continued, “I was young, stupid, not thinking about the potential consequences of my spellcasting. I travelled to a remote area to test a spell I had just developed for causing heavy rainfall, as a countermeasure to areas in states of extreme drought. The resultant weather anomaly was a supercharged electrical storm that resulted in one thousand, three hundred and seventy-four lightning strikes near and over a small town. Unfortunately, these lightning strikes made fatal connection with over a hundred people, and I panicked and fled the scene of the accident.” Josh nodded as he listened, writing the statement down as the surrendered exile related it to him.

                “All right, and you’re aware that your sentence is seven hundred and two years of imprisonment, correct?”

                “Yes,” Donovan answered unhesitatingly, unflinchingly.

                “Would you like to make a statement relating to the reason for your decision to surrender?”

                Yes, please,” replied the warlock once more, again waiting until Josh nodded before he spoke further, “For one hundred thirty-seven years, I’ve had to look over my shoulder everywhere. Hunters, operatives, even other Exiles, there is a lot that can kill you when you are an Exile. You have _no one_ to help you, you have _nothing_ to fall back on, you have _nobody_ to rely on or support you. Honestly, I’ve become lonesome, depressed, considered killing myself for a few years because what’s the point of being immortal if you’re going to be just _alone_ forever, always on the run, no one that cares about you, nobody that misses you, nothing? I tried befriending humans, but, with being unable to stick around for more than a couple years, I couldn’t even cultivate a fulfilling social relationship at all, so it just made my depression worse and I started to hate existing.”

                “I figured, you know, that was when it was time to turn myself in, so I started to work on a spell that would lead me to someone I could turn myself in to, which is how I found you guys,” Donovan concluded, and Josh nodded, transcribing his statements. He couldn’t imagine spending seven hundred and two years in prison, but the sentence he was facing was one year per year of his exile plus five years for each human life he had caused to end prematurely. It was a fair sentence, Josh thought, but he felt sorry for the fact someone who had just made one little error in judgment had found himself in for such a long sentence. He felt sorrier for the fact that he’d wasted nearly a century and a half being utterly miserable instead of embracing that sentence.

                “All I want is to be able to return to somewhere I can have someone to _talk_ to, to have someone to care I am _alive_ ,” Donovan added, and Josh nodded understandingly in answer. He hoped that Donovan would get that much, as it wasn’t as if seven hundred and two years was a death sentence: he would eventually have his freedom again, would eventually have a second chance. He stood up, the exiled warlock stood with him, and when Josh motioned toward a cell, Donovan went into it without resistance, allowing Akoko to switch the cuffs from behind him to in front of him, so he could sit and rest comfortably while he waited to be picked up. Then, Josh returned to the security centre, putting the manila folder down on the table inside the room.

                “Send a message to the Synod at the mecca, let them know we’ve apprehended an Exile and need a pickup, make sure to mention the need for a therapist from Eire Coven,” Josh said, and Edmund nodded, quickly tapping in a message for the Mystic Synod. Meanwhile, Josh returned to the dining room, where Henri, their pack members, and their undead allies had just completed a conversation on the topic of how to handle the Hunters north of them.

                “Tonight, though, we can’t do anything. It’s the full moon, and my omega’s still in his therian juvenility, so he needs to transform with each full moon,” Henri said, to which the newfound allies nodded.

                “Understandable. Do you have security planned?” asked Aristos.

                “Yes, three cybernetics and three biosynthetics are going to be available,” Henri replied.

                “Well, I’ll provided added security if you like,” Aristos said, and Henri nodded.

                “If you want to, that’s acceptable to me, but, Josh and I are probably going to be,” Henri answered, to which Marcel shook his head and rolled his shoulders.

                “That’s no problem, I don’t mind if you don’t. Could we have some fun with your pack’s bitch in the morning, though, say right after breakfast?”

                “Sure, I don’t see that being any trouble,” Henri said, and Josh nodded agreeably, as well.

                For the next few hours, they mostly relaxed around the wolf-den in preparation for the moon-meadow visit, while Helle, Hildegarde, Akoko, and Shawn went on a brief reconnaissance mission. He would lead them to where he had watched the home of a friend burn, watched Hunters flee, and the women would use their advanced lupine senses to attempt to scent their way to where their enemies had gone. It had been too long, though, and they returned without any new information about the Hunters’ potential location, other than the direction Shawn had given them, already.

 

* * *

 

 

                Shortly following sunset, their human allies had created a perimeter around the pack’s moon-meadow, just a bit north of the wolf-den and actually more of a sandpit than a meadow. Aristos, Marcel, Zuleika, and Shawn, added extra security to that perimeter, as did Cass, Valentin, and Lyle. Once at the tree line of the moon-meadow, well within the protective perimeter, Josh pulled the hood back from the hooded robe, which was all he was wearing. He opened his arms and stretched them backward and downward, allowing the garment to then slide off from his arms, over his hands, and ultimately crumple into the moss. Henri waited nearby, already transformed into his own therian form, as Josh stepped out into the moonlight, and looked up as his body shimmered darkly in the embrace of the moon. His skin darkened to a charcoal grey colour, as fur of the same pigment grew thickly from nearly every part of his body, his hair transforming into a fluff of thicker and slightly longer fur like a mane. He fought off the instinctive desire to howl at the moon, as it would draw the attention of the Hunters and would warn them wolves had rolled into the area. Standing six feet eight inches tall and two hundred sixty-five pounds, his face slightly elongated in a wolf-like muzzle, he savoured the moonlight as he heard Henri come up behind him.

                The powerfully muscled arms of the eight foot ten inch male slid around him, teeth bared as the four hundred thirty-two pound alpha bit his shoulder firmly. Josh arched with a growl of submission and arousal, a shaft of charcoal grey phallic muscle rising to twelve inches in length and three in thickness. Henri slid one hand down, fingers casually wrapping around that length of cock and gripping tightly as he continued to bite his lover’s furry nape forcefully. After a moment, Henri released his bite and pushed down with his hand, forcing Josh down in front of him until that length of phallic shaft slid out of his hands. Josh continued until he was on his knees, then leaned forward and pressed both powerful palms against dirt. Henri circled around him, a massive endowment of eighteen inches in length, three inches in thickness, standing erect in front of Josh’s face. Fur-covered fingers slid into his mane, caressed lupine ears before getting a sharp grip, and yanking his head to his cock.

                Josh let the thick, long muscle of his tongue extend, drawing a loving lick from the base to the tip, curling it sensuously around the plush head for a moment. Then his tongue slid down and caressed all the way to the base before wrapping around Henri’s balls, and Henri shifted his hips forward, letting Josh take them in his extended oral chamber. The omega sucked gently on them, closing his eyes and growling low in submissive excitement, Henri’s fingers soon tightening in his fur until it hurt.

                “You like that, bitch?” challenged Henri with a deep growl of dominance and lust, dragging Josh’s head back by his fur until those nuts slid out of his mouth, and slapping him hard, when he didn’t answer, “I said do you like that you little fucking bitch?” Josh’s cheek stung and his cock hardened further, arousal glistening at the tip of his rod, as he looked up at his mate in lustful submission.

                “Yes,” Josh growled, the pheromones of his desire as thick in the air as his alpha’s, and Henri grinned at him in satisfaction, yanking his fur and shoving his cock into his mouth. His hips slammed against the front of Josh’s short muzzle, as he forced it to the hilt and shoved more than ten inches into the young wolf’s throat.

                “Then suck it, you filthy little fucking whore,” the huge wolf snarled in arousal, yanking his hips back before beginning to relentlessly skull-fuck his mate as the omega began sucking hard. He fucked his mouth in rapid strokes, hips slamming extraordinarily forcefully into the bitch’s mouth as he ploughed that throat for his own pleasure. There was a faint curve, at the deepest end, and Henri tightened his grip before slamming a fur-covered foot into Josh’s balls, answered by a snarl of pain and arousal that provided a phenomenal vibration to his entire length.

                “Hips back, you fucking dirty little slut,” Henri snarled in response, his own voice practically dripping with lust and dominance, and Josh’s hips slid back further, sand clinging to the thick fur from his knees the fur on the top-side of his toes. Hands came up to grab Henri’s hips for balance, as the alpha hammered his face hard enough that it would’ve easily fractured a human’s skull. It was even slightly painful for Josh, but the bitch sucked hard, eyes closed as his entire twelve-inch shaft glistening with arousal, almost painfully erect.

                “Lyle,” Henri snarled amidst his arousal, knowing the nearby wolf would hear him and knowing that his ears would perk, “get in here.” About a minute and a half later, as Henri’s hips continued to hammer mercilessly into his mate’s mouth, the other wolf came galloping into the clearing on all fours, hastening his travel by using his hands as well as his feet. The black-furred wolf was eight foot nine inches in height and four hundred twenty pounds, his own cock standing erect at thirteen inches, aroused by the sound of their feral mating.

                “Yes, alpha,” replied Lyle in a deferential voice, before Henri motioned to the ground between him and his mate as he continued to face-fuck the latter.

                “Tend to your omega’s cock,” Henri ordered, and Lyle unhesitatingly swept in between Josh’s legs, sliding into a position where his mouth was underneath Josh’s balls. He reached his tongue out, propping himself up onto his elbows and forcing his omega’s cock to almost brush against his face. Lyle licked aggressively, soliciting deeper and louder growling moans of pleasure around Henri’s cock as Lyle cleaned his prick and then took it into his mouth. Ears perked as he felt his omega’s hand stroking up his back before grabbing his mane, holding him in position on his prick so he could suck the top half of it. Even as his body swayed violently as Henri continued to fuck his mouth, Josh held Lyle in a steady position, allowing the black wolf to suck continuously.

                “You like that, you whore?” snarled Henri in arousal, his massive length beginning to pulse violently in the bitch omega’s mouth, “Feed him, bitch.” Josh’s entire body relaxed in submission, tail sweeping through the air as an additional indicator of his own lust and arousal as he began to pulse in Lyle’s mouth. As Henri watched his cock pulse, half-in and half-out of Lyle’s lupine lips, he unloaded his own long, thick streams of seed into Josh’s lower throat as he slammed to the hilt, shoving his nuts against that large, wolven tongue. Josh swallowed hard around that cock, the muscles of his throat stroking it even as his own length released similar streams into the back of Lyle’s mouth. Below him, the black-furred wolf moaned softly to encourage him, until Henri slid his hips back and pulled his clean length from Josh’s mouth, circling around behind him. Fingers wrapped around his tail firmly, pulling his hips backward and upward, as Lyle slid his hips and repositioned himself, remaining on his back on the sand.

                The biology of a bitch-wolf was different from that of any other wolf, in some elements, the acknowledgment of a deep need on the part of the virus. A self-lubricating gland allowed his alpha a swift and easy entry into his ass, as his lips wrapped around the length of Lyle’s thick therian shaft. Black-furred fingers slid into the fur of his scruffy mane, pressing his head down hard as his thighs and calves stretched, the balls of his feet scraping the sand to either side of Henri as the alpha stood between them. The omega’s tail pressed firmly across the thick charcoal fur of Henri’s chest, his hips began to move, rolling backward before slamming the full eighteen-inch shaft to the hilt inside of him. The young omega’s body swayed forward hard, sliding his mouth down the length of cock until his tongue slid out to twist around the smooth skin of Lyle’s nuts. He sucked firmly on the entire shaft of his cock, swaying backward hard enough that his head rose from it until only the tip was in his mouth as Henri withdrew, then ploughed into him again, to the deepest possible depth.

                He arched his back submissively as he received the hammering thrusts of his mate, rolling his tongue firmly around the length of Lyle’s shaft and sucking hard. Lyle closed his eyes, fingers tightening each time Josh’s maw slid down his length to the hilt and licked his nuts, relaxing with a soft sigh when the bitch-omega’s mouth slid up as their alpha withdrew. For nearly ten minutes, Henri continued to hammer to the hilt before both wolves started pulsing hard inside of the eternal eighteen-year-old. Dark green irises shuttered as Lyle yanked down on his fur and bucked against his mouth forcefully, pushing his nuts into his mouth as Henri slammed to the hilt behind him. Almost simultaneously, Josh felt them pulse thick streams of seed into him, one down his throat and the other deep into his rump, and moaned gently on the shaft of their pack-member with a feeling of personal satisfaction. As the moon passed behind a cloud, Henri slid free of Josh’s tight rump and pulled his hips until Josh rose to a standing position. Lyle sat up, sliding sandy hips back and finally standing, shaking violently and throwing sand in all directions safe for the direction of his alpha and omega, toward whom he was facing.

                “Are you ready to go back inside, love?” asked Henri, two feet and two inches taller than his mate stood now.

                “Yes,” replied the young omega, feeling the sensuous softness of a breeze wafting through his thick, soft fur.

                “Then let us return,” he said, leading until they returned to where Josh’s cloak waited. The omega picked it up, and then crossed the country road, currently blocked off a considerable distance away on each side by the vehicles of their human allies. It would normally have drawn attention, but Matthew had used his authority as a police officer to close the road for a brief time, one of the vehicles blocking the path being his police car. Once they were across the road once more, Henri nodded to their human allies, who quickly dispersed as the wolves and their undead companions seemed to dissolve into the thickness of the forest.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The continuing story of the omega, Josh Colcord, and his alpha, Henri Barre, as their pack confronts the multitude of the Necropolis Corps, the Hunter's Soldiery's slayers of the undead.

                The following morning, Josh walked up the stairs into the central hall and crossed to the other side, where he descended the stairs and found the door of the room that Shawn was using for his own. He knocked calmly, his fingers rising to straighten his hair as he stood in a pair of white cotton boxer-briefs and knee-length shorts of dark blue denim. The door opened as the zombie turned the knob and pulled with his left hand, right hand rubbing the back of his head, though he didn’t look the least bit as if he had slept. It occurred to Josh that insomuch as that Shawn was dead and the fact he had watched a friend’s house for several days without so much as _blinking_ , zombies probably did not actually require _sleep_. Josh considered that Shawn most likely didn’t require food, water, air, or anything else, that he required himself as a living being.

                “Good morning,” Shawn greeted with a warm smile, “Did you sleep well?”

                “Yeah,” Josh replied, as Shawn stepped back a little to let him in, and the omega slid smoothly into the room.

                “Do you have any other responsibilities you need to tend to?”

                “Already tended to Henri, tended my pack-members yesterday. We alternate days, only Henri gets intimacy with me on a daily basis,” Josh answered, and Shawn nodded. He wasn’t wearing anything himself, shaft hanging at a length of six inches, though Josh saw a brightening, a livening, of his skin as Shawn concentrated on his body a bit more. Josh smiled as his eyes rose back to make contact with Shawn’s handsome irises of Egyptian blue, and Shawn reciprocated the facial expression as he closed the door behind the wolf.

                “So, I’ve never actually been with a wolf before, or with a bitch, or with a bitch-wolf,” Shawn admitted shyly, cheeks brightening into a subconscious blush, “So, uh, how does this work?”

                “Well, what kind of sex are you in the mood for, today?”

                “Ah, well, relatively gentle, I guess. I want my cock sucked, and I’d like you to ride it after that,” said Shawn, and Josh nodded as he lowered onto his knees, “Wait, so it’s that simple? I mean, I just tell you what I want, what I’d like you to do, and that’s all it takes?”

                “Or what you’d like to do to me,” Josh added, leaning close and taking a deep breath of the earthen scent of the zombie in front of him, looking up to make eye contact as his tongue slipped out. He touched the tip to the underside of the plush tip, lifting it onto his tongue and taking the entire flaccid length into his mouth, where he started to suck on it firmly. Shawn closed his eyes and sighed in pleasure at the unfamiliar sensation of a warm tongue on his prick, as it had been quite some time since he had last been with someone. Nevertheless, the muscle stirred promptly within Josh’s mouth as the kneeling youth sucked steadily, closing his eyes and started to sway his head back and forth, as it hardened in his mouth. Silk-soft lips caressed the length of Shawn’s prick as it grew to eight and a half inches in length and two inches in thickness, fingers in his hair tightening a bit.

                “Wow, your mouth is, impressive, Josh,” Shawn praised warmly, pulling his hips back before thrusting gently against his mouth as Josh swayed forward. Twice more, he thrust mildly, as he sought to match Josh’s rhythm before he matched or increased the force or worked to increase their shared pace. Josh compliantly meshed with Shawn, and the blond started to fuck his mouth more and more forcefully, thrusting hard for a moment until his cock stood rock-hard from his hips. He pulled backward, pulling Josh’s hair to make the young wolf come with him until he could sit on the edge of his bed, at which point he flopped back onto his back. Josh bobbed his head fast and hard on that cock, sucking as firmly as possible and moaning softly, sending pleasurable vibrations through Shawn’s length.

                Shawn’s fingers caressed his scalp, running tenderly through the strands of dark brown hair, noticing that his hair seemed a bit longer today than it was yesterday. As Shawn’s fingers moved through his hair, Josh slid his hips out of his jean shorts and cotton undergarments.

                “Your hair grows fast,” Shawn observed, his own having not grown ever since his death. Most zombies kept their hair the same length it was when they died and only changed styles, since their hair wouldn’t grow without help from a witch or warlock to facilitate it.

                “Yeah, about two to three inches a month, it requires consistent trims for wolves to keep their hair in the style we want it to be in,” Josh answered, as Shawn pulled his head up from his prick. Shawn groaned an affirmation as he pushed the omega’s head back to the hilt on his prick, feeling those beautiful lips brace around the base as the brunette sucked enthusiastically.

                “You’re really good at this,” Shawn said, as Josh’s soft moans sent an incredible, sensuous resonation through the full length of his prick all the way down to the base. His fingers tightened and then relaxed in dark brown strands of hair as Josh moved his head up and down, bobbing his head as fast and hard as possible. The omega’s lips moved smoothly along that length, caressing the sensitive muscle in his mouth as he rolled his tongue along the underside in a firm, massaging motion. Shawn sighed pleasure, his hips arching in response to the phenomenal attention the bitch-wolf was providing him with at that moment. Josh continued to move his head, the smell of fertile loam in his nostrils a strange sensation but encouraging nevertheless, and the clean taste of phallic muscle on his tongue was succulent in its’ own way. Shawn continued to arch his hips gently into his mouth every time Josh’s lips slid down over his prick, pushing into his mouth without really fucking it. When Josh felt Shawn’s cock start to pulse in his mouth, he started to bob his head faster and harder, feeling the first stream of thick, sweet jism jet into his mouth as his head was rising off that cock. He closed his eyes as Shawn’s release surged out onto his tongue, calmly holding his position until the blond’s spasm’s concluded.

                “Holy fuck,” Shawn breathed the words as he propped himself up on his elbows, watching Josh swallow his jizz then slide back down on his cock. He gasped softly in pleasure, hips jerking, as Josh’s lips cinched tightly around the base of his prick and tongue extended under his balls to apply firm pressure. Shawn arched and whimpered softly in pleasure, fingers clenching the sheets as Josh sucked hard, using his tongue to push the last drops of his release up through his cock. Once it was past his lips, Josh slid his head up slowly, squeezing sensuously firmly as he rose until the last of Shawn’s jism was at the tip of his prick, where the omega licked it off with the tip of his tongue. Josh smiled around the head of his cock, making eye contact as he swallowed the rest, before sliding the plush tip through his soft, moist lips. The intense sensation caused Shawn to arch and gasp softly in pleasure again, cock remaining steel-hard as Josh’s mouth finally left it.

                “Holy fuck, you are an amazing cocksucker, bitch,” Shawn gasped, the words leaving his lips before he had time to think about them, followed by a blush, “Er, sorry.”

                “It’s okay, that’s a wonderful compliment. I’m glad you enjoyed my mouth,” Josh replied, and Shawn sighed in relief and reached out, pulling the omega to him. Josh slid his legs across Shawn’s, moving up until he felt Shawn’s prick sliding across his own erect length, until the omega’s palm touched his chest and pressed him down gently. Josh leaned forward, reaching until he could grab the handle of the nightstand, from which he withdrew a small vial filled with coconut oil, his preferred lubricant. Shawn’s eyes focused on Josh’s erect shaft as it hung over his chest, not too far from his face, as Josh looked down at him before sliding his hips further away. Shawn’s hands lifted and stroked his thighs gently, then moved to cupping his ass as he sat up a bit to keep his hands on that ass as Josh moved back a bit more. He poured a little bit of the oil onto his hand, spreading it liberally over Shawn’s prick down to his nuts as the blond squeezed his rump tightly with strong, unliving fingers.

                Moments later, Josh arched his body and slid his hips down against that cock, taking it to the hilt inside him once more, as Shawn stood, holding him by his ass. Fingers squeezed firmly on his rump as Shawn moved to a chair with a somewhat high back, sitting where Josh could grip the back of the chair. Josh’s fingers slid up Shawn’s chest, over his shoulders, then gripped the chair-back as he started to roll his hips against the blond zombie’s own. He lifted slowly, contracting the muscles inside himself as he reached the tip and began to gradually slide back down, providing Shawn with a slow, intense sensation as Josh rode his cock hard. Shawn groaned softly in pleasure, leaning backwards bodily against the back of the chair, right hand sliding up from cupping the curvature of Josh’s pert, full rump, gently caressing his back until he reached his shoulder. Shawn curved his fingers around the omega’s left shoulder, arching his back to bring his lips to Josh’s, where he kissed the wolf passionately, and Josh reciprocated unhesitatingly.

                As they kissed, the omega’s hips continued to rise and fall, sweeping lightly up his length then gliding tightly back down onto it, making the boyish zombie moan gently into the kiss. Josh had no hesitation about kissing him, his body was clean and had a satisfying taste to it, and the smell of fresh soil touched on a primal familiarity for the wolf within. Josh continued this movement for several minutes, as he felt Shawn slowly begin to pulse inside of him, lightly at first, but then with increasing intensity as the zombie resisted the urge to release. He did not envy Shawn’s undeath, the amount of concentration it required to be able to remain sexually viable while also resisting the urge to release as soon as the figurative boiling point was reached.

                “Fuck,” gasped Shawn as he broke the kiss, unable to resist any further as his cock began to pulse hard inside Josh’s ass, sending thick streams of his seed into his rump. When the pulsing stopped, Shawn sighed softly in pleasure, looking up into Josh’s eyes as the brunette slid slowly up from his cock and let it slide out of him completely.

                “Damn, that was amazing,” praised Shawn, and Josh smiled warmly in appreciation of the compliment, “Now I need a bath and food. Well, okay, need might be a strong word, but I would definitely enjoy it, and I definitely need to wash up a bit before I attend breakfast.”

                “Glad you enjoyed yourself,” grinned Josh in response, “You’re the first person I’ve been with that wasn’t a wolf. It was a very pleasant experience.” Shawn smiled in answer to that statement, reciprocating when Josh pressed his lips to the blond’s and kissed him firmly, Josh’s erect shaft brushing against Shawn’s still-hard rod in the process. Shawn’s hands cupped his rump firmly, squeezing tightly until Josh pulled back from the kiss, and Shawn slapped his ass with both hands, hard enough that the sound reverberated around the room in the wolf-omega’s ears. He arched in pleasure and released a soft sigh of satisfaction, before sliding backwards, Shawn’s strong hands caressing his hips as the zombie let him withdraw. He took Shawn’s hands in his own and pulled him gently to his feet, and Shawn smiled a bit at him, looking down between them to where their cocks brushed against each other. Shawn’s was returning to a softer state now, coming to hang across the erect bar of Josh’s length, and pretty blue eyes rose to meet irises of pretty green in a brief moment of silence.

                “Do you need me to…?”

                “No, that’s okay, you don’t have to,” Josh replied, as Shawn’s voice trailed off.

                “May I, though?”

                “Yes,” Josh breathed the word receptively, and Shawn pressed him back until his back touched the bedroom door, and then the blond dropped down onto his knees. He watched the strong, moist muscle of Shawn’s tongue as it slid out, caressing up the length of his prick and licking off a considerable amount of his body’s own natural lubricant. Shawn kept his eyes up on Josh’s dark green rings as he brought his tongue to the plush head, withdrew it, then licked a second time and then a third, in different angles.

                “I may not be as good at this as you are,” Shawn warned respectfully, but Josh smiled at him.

                “It’s okay, you don’t have to do this at all, so,” he began, then arched as Shawn took his cock into his mouth and slid down to the hilt, taking all eight inches in a rush, in answer to that statement. He gasped softly in pleasure at the unexpected quickness to take his cock, closing his eyes as the kneeling male began bobbing his head fast and hard for the omega’s pleasure. The wolf moaned softly in satisfaction, a feral smile curling across his lips at the unforeseen pleasure of Shawn’s mouth on his thick, heavy rod.

                “I won’t last long, anyway,” Josh assured him, to which Shawn moaned softly in affirmation, sending a light, pleasurable vibration down into the omega’s shaft. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the comfortable plane of the door, letting Shawn suck at his own pace for as long as possible. Just a minute and a half later, however, his rod started to pulse, and the kneeling zombie began to move his head even faster and harder, sucking him as forcefully as possible until his seed pulsed onto Shawn’s tongue. Shawn’s eyes shut as Josh looked down at him, drinking the warm, sweet flow receptively, and then using his fingers to pressure out the last vestiges of it, swallowing the whole release before licking him clean.

                “Thank you, Shawn,” Josh said, and Shawn smiled as he looked up at him while standing.

                “Least I could do was make sure you didn’t leave here unsatisfied, yourself,” Shawn said, and Josh smiled at him appreciatively for the sentiment. He quickly gathered his boxer-briefs and his shorts, before answering.

                “Well, enjoy your bath. I’ll see you at breakfast,” Josh promised, and Shawn nodded. They both slipped out of the room, but as Shawn moved directly to the nearby stairs, the omega went to the next door in the hall, where the mummy was relaxing. As an asexual, she politely declined the offer of intimate attendance, thanking him for the offer as she moved to take a morning bath as he proceeded further down the hallway. The next door was the room in which Marcel Armand had taken his temporary residence, and Josh knocked lightly as Aristos stepped out of his door and into the hall. Marcel’s door opened, and Josh smiled at one revenant and then the next.

                “I believe you two had expressed an interest in spending some time with the bitch of our pack?”

                “Yes,” Marcel smiled at him enthusiastically, and Aristos nodded as he walked the short distance over, also.

                “That would be most satisfactory, indeed,” Aristos agreed.

                “Well, I have a bit of free time, if you two are in the mood, now,” Josh offered, to which both males nodded, taking a moment to strip their clothes off and stow them in their respective rooms.

                “How about in the showers?” suggested Aristos, and Josh nodded a bit.

                “That sounds good,” Josh agreed, leading the way to the communal shower, which was fortunately empty by the time they reached it.

                “You don’t mind if this is relatively quick, do you?” asked Marcel. Josh shook his head.

                “Whatever you two need to satisfy yourselves,” Josh answered, and the two men nodded quickly. Then, Josh led the way up the stairs and to the door to the shower room, opening it to step into the communal showers. The area was divided into two rooms with a wall between them and openings on either side to go around into the wet area while the entry area had shelves and ventilation to keep it properly dry. There were shelves for clothes, and shelves stocked with a couple dozen large towels of plain white cotton, allowing ample room for multiple people to undress, then later dry and redress. The two revenants stepped in and immediately stopped to stare around the room, because while Josh was acclimated to it, it was a marvel of fanciness to the revenants, with fluorescent white lights and sturdy glass tiling for the floors, walls, and ceilings.

                “Wow, this is…”

                “…in a word, beautiful,” Aristos finished Marcel’s observation. The floors had a dark blue colouration, while the walls and ceilings had a shimmery, silvery aspect to them. Given the fact that most humans were still stuck on the illusion that werewolves were vulnerable to silver, none of them would’ve expected to be surrounded by it in a wolf-den’s communal shower.

                “What is this, anyway?” continued Marcel. It was obvious to Josh that they were well aware that it was glass tile, but that they were curious for more information than that. Fortunately, Josh had himself asked that question within the first week they were here, and therefore knew the answer to provide it to their guests. He knew they probably had residences of their own, and maybe Marcel wanted to have it installed in his place.

                “The walls and the ceiling are by Giorbello, they call it Cristezza Glass, the colour is called Silver Foil,” Josh answered, “The floors are by Marazzi, they call this product ‘Catwalk Random Sized Glass Frosted Mosaic in Blue Ballet.’ I’m not sure why these companies feel like long-ass names like that are necessary, but whatever, it looks nice.”

                “Nice is an understatement,” Marcel said as he followed Josh around the partition, into the wet area, wherein there were showerheads and water controls in tempered steel with burnished nickel plating. When Josh turned on the water from one of several stations, Aristos and Marcel turned on a few more, creating a hot rain and slowly building steam in their current section. As their bodies were soaked and their hair wetted down, the two men closed in on Josh on either side, pulling him out of the water. Marcel’s hands rose into his hair, pouring vanilla-scented shampoo on the top of his head and beginning to lather it firmly against his scalp. Meanwhile, Aristos’ hands began roughly lathering his body with soap from his neck to his hips, down over his arms, washing him aggressively as his hard cock pressed against the crease of the wolf-bitch’s ass.

                “We showered last night,” said Aristos brusquely in his ear, “We’re going to get you clean and then fuck you hard and rough.” As he finished, he pushed firmly on that tight ass, as Marcel pulled his hair and he stepped quickly into the rain of hot water, letting it rinse him thoroughly.

                “Promises, promises,” Josh encouraged, and arched with a gasp as the Spartan’s hand slammed down on the left curvature of his ass, the gasp coloured with a whimper of pleasure.

                “Yeah, you like that, you masochistic little whore?” asked Aristos rhetorically, lathering his hands again and shoving his fingers into Josh’s ass. Aristos thrust soap-covered fingers into his rump hard, hammering them in while his other hand spread soap across his ass and hips, then roughly over his hardening prick. As Josh’s mouth opened in a whimper of pleasure, Marcel yanked his hair hard and shoved his head down, forcing his lips down over nine and a quarter inches of hard cock as Aristos squeezed his nuts with one soap-coated palm. The bitch’s hips arched receptively as his balls were squeezed and fingers ploughed deep into his rump, submissively moaning against Marcel’s large rod while Aristos’ hand swept down over his left thigh. Marcel began hammering his mouth hard, yanking his hair as he pulled his hips back, then shoving him down as he thrust into his mouth again, forcing his prick to the hilt in the bitch’s mouth and throat.

                “Leg up you little bitch,” Aristos growled in arousal, washing him quickly and roughly enough the bitch felt violently manhandled, and enjoyed the sensation. His leg lifted obediently, and soon Aristos spread water across his left foot, roughly pressing fingers between toes with impeccable thoroughness. Aristos didn’t mind Marcel getting the bitch’s mouth first, he wanted the little whore immaculate before he slammed his own ten-inch rod into him. As the Spartan pushed his foot back to the floor with a grip on his ankle, he lifted his other leg and Aristos was prompt in his washing before standing up and cracking his hand violently on that ass again. Josh arched and yelped softly, vibrating the cock buried to the hilt in his mouth as Marcel began fucking his mouth harder while pulling him into the water of the shower once more. As soap washed off his body, Aristos moved to stand in front of the kneeling whore, who soon lifted his hand and began stroking the Spartan’s impressive shaft.

                “Fucking horny little slut,” Aristos growled in arousal, arching against that hand in slow thrusts, keeping his rod steel-hard while he patiently waited for his turn in that mouth. Marcel began hammering his mouth even harder, still, abusing that throat so violently that Josh’s vibrating groans were from a masochistic mixture of pleasure and pain as he sucked it. When the Frank started to pulse in his mouth, he yanked his hair hard and hauled his head off his prick before spraying thick streams of Frankish jism onto his face. Josh closed his eyes quickly as the last drops were wiped off on the bridge of his nose, and then another cock swept up into his mouth as Aristos grabbed his hair and rammed his own cock through cum-splattered lips. The hot water pouring out of a half-dozen faucets created a mist of steam that heightened the pleasure for both of them as they used him, the fiery rain quickly washing Josh’s face off as Marcel moved around behind him.

                He opened his eyes and whined loudly in pain as Aristos slammed his foot into his balls, sucking harder while his eyes moved up to meet the Spartan’s. The Spartan nodded his head toward Marcel, behind him, and still groaning on that cock the bitch raised his hips before feeling the Frenchman behind him grabbing them. He arched hard, forcing his lips to the hilt on the Spartan’s rod, gasping around it as the Frankish revenant thrust his soap-covered, steel-hard cock into his ass as far as it would go. Josh closed his eyes and moaned softly as the two began fucking him as hard as their hips would allow, slamming him back and forth between them. Above him, the two men were groaning loudly in pleasure as they fucked him harshly, pounding into him from both ends and gripping him tight enough to leave brief red grip-marks in their way. He groaned as he felt one hand leave his hips, then arched and howled deeply on Aristos’ cock as Marcel spanked him hard enough to leave a welt, his own cock jerking forcefully in response.

                “Fuck, dirty little whore,” Marcel teased in arousal, even in the steam and shower their arousal pheromones were overpowering in his nostrils. Even so, he groaned softly in relief as he felt Marcel start to pulse in his ass, muscle contractions encouraging him successfully toward his release, and felt Aristos’ large shaft starting to throb inside his mouth and throat. Finally, Marcel slammed harder than before into his ass and held it there, Frankish seed pulsing out into his ass in thick streams that surged deep into him as Aristos yanked his hair. As his lips swept up that cock, thick Spartan jism poured out onto his tongue, and he swallowed enthusiastically as the muscular warrior filled his mouth with an impressive volume before pulling out. He squeezed the last vestiges of his release onto the tip of Josh’s waiting tongue as Marcel pulled out and huffed from the exertion, rinsing fresh sweat from his body.

                “Fuck, that was phenomenal,” Marcel breathed as Aristos pulled Josh to his feet, pressed him forward against the wall, and thrust his cock to the hilt in the bitch’s freshly ploughed rump. The bitch arched and groaned in pleasure, and Marcel watched his Spartan compatriot fucking the little slut violently, one hand gripping his hair while the other grabbed the bitch’s cock between glass and flesh.

                “You like this, you fucking little whore?” demeaned Aristos, hammering him harder as punctuation for that rhetorical question, hand moving in hard, rough strokes on that prick as he pounded into the bitch’s tight ass.

                “Mm! Fuck… yes!” answered Josh, despite the rhetorical nature, and Aristos leaned in close, biting hard into the whore’s shoulder, as he continued to slam his hips into the bitch’s body. He groaned as he felt that ass tightening, contracting invitingly around his prick as the whore gave his all to pleasuring the ancient Spartan warrior. The hoplite closed his eyes and groaned as he continued to clamp his teeth on that shoulder, wolf-jism soon splattering the glass-tiled wall as Aristos continued to move his hand. He opened his eyes as he felt the cock in his hand pulsing, fucking the bitch even more violently and harshly than before as his teeth relaxed. His teeth left a deep indentation with no broken skin.

                “Filthy slut, cumming from being fucked like a rag doll,” Aristos growled in arousal, resisting the urge to let himself cum as he felt a pulse vibrating his prick inside the bitch. He squeezed his prick hard, before sliding his hand down to squeeze the bitch’s balls, groaning in pleasure as the bitch whined softly in pain and submission between him and the wall. Aristos growled at the temptation, his arousal spiking higher and higher, his lust-pheromones becoming denser and denser in the air and in Josh’s nostrils. Finally, he clamped his teeth down on the other nape of Josh’s neck, biting him as hard as he felt he could safely bite him as his cum surged out of his prick and flooded the bitch’s ass in thick jets. He bucked his hips one last time as he started to release, pinning the bitch against the silver tiles of the glass wall, teeth sinking into the flesh hard enough to leave a matching indentation on this side. He finally growled in deep satisfaction as his fingers relinquished their grip on hair and balls, hips sliding back from that ass until he slipped out completely.

                “Holy Zeus,” Aristos breathed against his skin as his teeth relaxed from the fresh bite-mark indentation that now decorated Josh’s shoulder, “You’re fucking phenomenal.” His hands moved, suddenly twisting to spin Josh about fast enough that his back clapped loudly as he was pushed into the wall, and the Spartan kissed him hard, passionately, hands moving to cup that slightly reddened rump. He held him there for more than a minute before finally pulling his head back and looking into Josh’s beautiful irises of dark green.

                “Thank you,” Josh gasped the words as he caught his breath, and Aristos smiled.

                “No, thank you, that was amazing. You okay?”

                “Yeah, that was an unusually harsh fuck. I’m glad I could help you guys get your frustrations out,” he replied, still catching his breath, though glad for wolven regeneration right about now. He would’ve been sore for the rest of the day, otherwise, whereas the bite-marks would probably be gone before lunch.

                “Phew,” he breathed, turning off the showers and letting the steam clear as the three of them returned to the main room to dry, and Josh slid back into his boxer-briefs and denim shorts. Then, it was back to the order of the day, beginning with a nice breakfast, just as soon as Josh got a shirt on.

  

* * *

 

 

                The morning of the seventh of June, Edmund hurried into the dining room, his expression unreadable, but he was wreathed in an aura of fury-pheromones and shock-pheromones. He touched a button on the wall, opening a panel in the wall that produced a large television, which he immediately turned to the news.

                “… cause of the fire is currently unknown, but firefighters are on the scene and the fire is under control, but when firefighters entered the building, they made a gruesome discovery. As you can see from the sign, we’re standing outside the _Phoenix Hart Orphanage_ , a charitably-funded childcare centre, and we regret to report that there were no survivors of the fire. We are told that the orphanage was home to thirteen full-time employees who worked charitably at the orphanage, as well as three hundred and eleven children between the ages of eight and sixteen years old,” came the voice of the reporter on the television, a man that looked like he couldn’t have been more than thirty-six years old, himself.

                “The Phoenix Hart Orphanage was our oldest orphanage in Birmingham,” Shawn explained, his voice distant and pained, “Everyone there was part of the undead community, specifically zombies. Zombies don’t age, even child zombies, so we set up orphanages around the world to try to protect them, let them enjoy their never-ending childhood as much as possible. We call them eternity children, since they’re children forever and thereby have a lot of childlike characteristics no matter how old they become, but they still vote in the elections for the Dead Congress.”

                “Eternity children are our most protected citizens,” Marcel added, “Since there’s nothing we can do to allow them to reach adulthood yet, we try to keep them clear of all harm. Revenants like us, and mummies like Zuleika, well if a kid becomes one, they’ll age naturally until they complete their maturation cycle, somewhere between eighteen to twenty-six years old, depending on the person. Zombies, though, they die at nine, they’re stuck being nine forever, in a sort of good sort of bad situation. They can’t fight well against something much larger, they can’t use most weapons because the weapon’s too big or the kick might damage them, they don’t usually have a desire to learn to fight because they’re still kids even after two centuries, they need protection and a little supervision.”

                “Hard to believe these bastards think it is okay to target our youngest, though,” Aristos glowered at the very idea, much less the fact that they had actually done it.

                “I think it’s time the pack went hunting,” Josh said, and Henri nodded his agreement.

                “Mount up, wolves,” Henri agreed, “We’re going to prepare an ambush for these bastards. Valentin, pack the dry provisions.”

                “Akoko, give Shawn an X-Bolt Pathfinder,” Josh instructed, and Akoko nodded as they proceeded promptly to the armoury. A modified variant of the Browning X-Bolt bolt-action rifle he trained with at the clan’s fortress, the X-Bolt Pathfinder was made of reinforced black hardwood with gunmetal-grey on the barrel, trigger, bolt, and sturdy metal sights. The sniper whistled, as he looked it over, while Edmund stood with the more defensive X-Bolt Warden, which replaced the gun-sights with a scope and a laser-sight, the latter of which he could deactivate at will.

                “Now this is a rifle,” he admitted in appreciation as he accepted the weapon, and enough ammunition for six shots, the same volume as Josh took when he took another X-Bolt Pathfinder for himself.

                “That’s seventy-five caliber,” Josh warned, and Shawn nodded, certain he could handle the weapon, and not stupid enough to take a weapon he couldn’t fire without hurting himself. Shawn’s expression transitioned from one of appreciation to one of disbelief as he watched Josh holster the rifle, then pick up a Mossberg 500 Persuader and three eight-round clips, followed by a pair of 60-caliber handguns with four clips for each. He felt, abruptly, as if he was on his way to another warzone, and then realised that with Hunters at the far end of his scope, such an assessment had a high likelihood of accuracy.

                “What’s our squad arrangement?” came the sniper’s question, finally.

                “Edmund, you’ll remain in the den for when we return,” Henri said, and Edmund nodded, “Raise your nest, and be ready to fire at necessity. Lyle, you’ll remain behind as well, stand at the inside door of the garage, and if any enemy arrives who isn’t in chains, kill them. Zuleika, I’ll want you to stay behind, also, help Edmund and Lyle secure the perimeter.” The mummy nodded in answer to his estimation, feeling more than comfortable with the idea that he wanted her in a continuing defensive role. Meanwhile, Henri picked up a Pathfinder for himself, and tossed one over to Marcel.

                “Marcel, you will lead me and Valentin to the location of one of the area’s most prominent zombies. If they’re refraining from engaging something more dangerous than zombies, we’re going to show them the French know how to shoot at range. Aristos, you will lead Cass and Akoko to a second location; Shawn, you’ll lead Josh, Hildegarde, and Helle, to a third,” Henri continued, “Edmund, once we’re in location, communicate my coordinates to Dukel and Avelarde, communicate Josh’s coordinates to Zaven and Kelekovich. Transmit Cass and Akoko’s location to Suval and Telhomme, and tell Marcus to bring a sniper rifle for himself and a second for Suval. Instruct them to come heavy, and ready for a fight. We are going to strike these little chicken-wuss bastards and they’re gonna know they been hit.”

                “On it,” Edmund said, moving promptly to the security centre, as Lyle loaded his heavy machine gun, feeding in an exceptionally long chain of rounds that wrapped about his body four times. Zuleika watched as the seventeen of them left the wolf-den, and then joined Edmund in the security centre, where he motioned her to stand close. Once his best friend closed the garage ramp behind the departing teams, he rose gun-in-hand, touching another button and then a cylindrical hole opened in the ceiling and an elevator came down. He stepped onto it with Zuleika, and waited as it rose until it met a small, pillbox-like chamber. This chamber then rose until the openings on all sides were positioned four feet off the ground, dirt and sand as the hidden opening allowed the roofed, fortified sniper-nest to emerge, with firing slots a mere twelve inches tall. Each one was curved slightly with the wall, about eight feet wide, in a room that was just large enough to have four of those openings with twenty-four inches of reinforced concrete between each of the firing curves.

   

* * *

 

 

                When Kelly and Constantine arrived, they were clothed in black tactical gear that looked like it was supplied by Dukel, each carrying a 10-round HK45 and an 8-round Mossberg 500. Josh could both see and smell that they were carrying five additional clips for their handgun and three additional clips for their shotguns. Kelly smelled as if she’d just received an oil change in her cybernetics. Both of them stared slightly in surprise to see Josh waiting for them and heavily armed besides, accompanied by Hildegarde and Helle, equally heavily armed with a shotgun, two pistols, and two Sterling L2A3 Mark 4 British submachine guns.

                “What’s the mission, omega?” came the query from Kelly, as she stretched her cybernetic left limbs. As Josh gestured with a nod, her eyes followed downrange to a large structure.

                “You know the recent string of arsons?”

                “Yeah,” answered Constantine, checking his shotgun out of habit.

                “It’s Hunter activity. The orphanage they burned recently, was a zombie orphanage,” Josh answered, “We’re dealing with the Necropolis Corps, the Hunters tasked with the absolute elimination of the undead, including the young undead.” Kelly’s eyes narrowed in ire, and Constantine scoffed vocally.

                “Filthy bastards,” Constantine growled, “Kids are kids, ain’t matter these kids died once already. Tell me we get to kill them.”

                “Hopefully, whole lots of them,” Josh confirmed. They had already warned the orphanage, and they were in the process of convincingly putting on the appearance of normal operations. In truth, the four hundred twelve eternity children in this particular orphanage were already in the bunker, and convincing video projections of them were being broadcast throughout the interior of the building. The adults themselves remained, a total of seven of them, albeit each had agreed to carry a single 12-round 45-caliber handgun, with which they had over the last two days received quick emergency instruction.

                On the evening of June eleventh, Josh and Shawn noticed movement as they laid in ambush half a mile away, in their elevated position. Josh motioned, and the other four immediately drew their pistols, and crouched on alert.

                “Movement downrange,” Josh said. He pulled out and quickly attached a scope to his rifle, and then focused through it on the enemy that was a good distance away as the sun was setting to their east, on Josh’s right-hand side. It seemed he would get his wish for it to be a fair number of them, as he focused in on their numbers, watching as over three hundred Hunters emerged near the orphanage. Themselves clothed in black tactical gear and armed with pistols and shotguns, and Josh noticed ten-gallon jugs of gasoline in the hands of ten of them. A hundred gallons of gasoline would make sure the orphanage was completely incinerated with everyone inside, but Josh wasn’t planning on letting them destroy another orphanage.

                “Shawn, target right,” Josh said, as Shawn attached a scope to his own X-Bolt Pathfinder, nodding in answer to the instruction, “Shoot the gasoline first. Let’s see how the _Hunters_ like burning.” Shawn nodded, aiming carefully, but waiting for the omega’s instruction.

                “Three,” Josh breathed, pausing a second, “two… one… fire.” The last word came out as a whispered breath, bullets left two rifles simultaneously and massive rounds sliced through the distance. Even before the Hunters could react to what sounded like a single gunshot, bullets punctured two jugs of gasoline and caused massive, blinding, fiery explosions that incinerated the man holding the jug, and everyone in a five-foot radius. Panic erupted amid the Hunters as guns were drawn and they looked around for the source of the clearly heard gunshot that preceded the explosions by less than a second.

                “Holy fuck that has a kick,” Shawn gasped in a whisper, quickly resetting a dislocated shoulder and adjusting his position so that would not happen again, “No joke it’s seventy-five fucking caliber.”

                Six seconds later, another shot, two additional explosions, and another twenty Hunters suffered fatal burns or the lethal impact of the kinetic force of the explosions. In under forty seconds, all ten jugs of gasoline were destroyed, and bullets slammed into two additional Hunters, leaving their tally of dead now up to a hundred and two individuals.

                “Over there! On the ridge!” came the shout of one Hunter who caught sight of the twin muzzle flashes, “Two snipers on the ridge!”

                “Get them!” ordered their commander, and a swarm of more than two hundred Hunters raced in their direction over the distance, as Josh switched to his pistol, moving closer to the ridge. Keen lupine eyesight helped him pick out targets, as he and his pack-mates opened fire on the approaching mass, slowing them down as bullets came sweeping through the trees, striking several of them dead within seconds. As their clips emptied, they ducked behind trees while Kelly, Constantine, and Shawn, opened fire with their own handguns, dropping several additional Hunters when they moved to race closer when the first team stopped firing. Even as the Hunters raced closer and closer, the alternating three-person firing teams sliced their numbers brutally, though the second team’s accuracy left much to be desired in Josh’s mind. Their return fire was dangerous, and forced Kelly and Constantine to take cover, while the zombie was able to fire almost continuously, ducking for cover only while reloading and ignoring the bullets that were shredding into his skin. Those could be removed later so that he could heal, but with them not hitting him in any of his joints, he spent as much time firing as possible.

                Shawn was excellent with a rifle, but he missed more than he hit firing a pistol after sunset, while Kelly’s aim was the best of the three of them with a sixty-four percent hit rate. Josh could hear Hunters falling dead when they entered lupine earshot, and as their pistols ran low on ammunition, Helle and Hildegarde switched to their shotguns. When Josh nodded, they stepped out and fired several shots as he leapt up into the branches of the trees, racing through the branches until they ducked behind trees for cover as the Hunters came within shouting distance.

                “Who are you?” came the shouted demand of a leader of the company of Hunters.

                “Don’t you mean _what_ are we, Hunter?” challenged Hildegarde with a defiant snarl, as she drew back from one tree to a different tree slightly further back.

                “Potato, potato,” the Hunter replied, a tacit acknowledgment if ever Josh heard one, as he drew his sword in silence while crouching in the branches above them.

                “Humans,” replied Kelly as she rolled out from behind a tree, firing several shots as she danced sideward and then ducked behind another tree for cover. She’d hit a few as she emptied the clip, but nowhere near as many as Josh would’ve hit. Josh quickly loaded his last twelve-round clip as she fired, masking the sound of his loading above them, and allowing Hildegarde and Helle to reposition themselves into the trees as well. Josh took a deep breath and then he slid down the tree on a side where no Hunters would see him right away as their firing line advanced on the Cybernetic, Biosynthetic, and Zombie.

                “Or in my case,” Josh roared violently as he rolled out from behind the tree and flung his sword in a whirling sickle of death that clove through eight necks before slamming bloodily into a tree, “The last thing you’ll ever see!” As his pistol came up, Helle and Hildegarde dropped from the trees in their own locations, and the three of them fired at virtually point blank range, dropping three dozen Hunters in the breadth of less than twenty seconds. The only one who remained was the speaker, and as his gun rose toward Josh, Kelly made a powerful cybernetic leap, whipping out across the distance with a whirling kick into his lower arm. His gun was sent flying as he whirled forcefully enough that he slammed face-first into a tree, then spun and swung at her with the back of one fist.

                She twisted gracefully out of the way and then slammed a fist of flesh and bone into his lower stomach, under the ribcage, causing him to gasp. A heartbeat later, a fist of pistons and steel slammed up into his chin, knocking the Hunter sixteen inches into the air before her palms slammed into his chest and hurled him back first into the tree again. He fell from there with a cough as he landed on his hands and knees, and then stumbled to his feet.

                “Those things in there aren’t human beings, they’re already dead! I am doing this for the human race!”

                “Not _my_ human race,” Kelly answered, spinning on a heel of flesh and bone as she slammed a boot reinforced by a foot of steel and hydraulics into his chest hard enough to leave a fatal three-inch-deep boot-print in his sternum. She stepped back as he fell dead in front of her, barely containing the temptation to spit disdainfully on his corpse, but maintained her cool enough to resist that temptation.

                “You two better get back before anyone notices you aren’t about,” Josh said, to which Kelly and Constantine nodded, quickly bolting to the road nearby, getting into the former’s car, and rolling clandestinely away.

                Meanwhile, the rest ran hard across the distance to the security of the wolf-den, which they discovered was safe, sound, and utterly undetected.

  

* * *

 

 

                The following morning, as they set at the breakfast table, they listened to the same newscaster as before, with a bit of grim satisfaction at the report.

                “I’m here outside the _White Swan Orphanage_ , where in this immediate area and up that hill, it seems there’s been a major gun-battle, the scene of the violence behind this yellow police tape. Sources inside the police department tell us that this is one of three such scenes, the other two being outside of the _Scarlet Montenegro Orphanage_ and the _Anna Duncan Orphanage_ , and that the dead were found wearing military-grade tactical assault gear. There is no word on whether or not these people were part of some sort of military operation or perhaps a training exercise gone horribly wrong. Wait, hold on… excuse me! Excuse me, Detective!” The cameraman followed as the reporter hurriedly rushed up to a police detective.

                “Detective, Detective may I ask you a couple of questions?” As the Detective turned and Dukel’s face came into view, Josh smirked a little bit in response.

                “We have a major crime scene to examine, here,” the homicide detective replied.

                “Detective, please, just a couple questions.”

                “Make it quick.”

                “Detective, can you tell us if you’ve heard from the military about whether the dead were part of some sort of military unit?”

                “These men were not members of any military unit, we’ve already called the military and they have assured us they had no operations in this area last night,” Matthew replied calmly, “We are in the process of identifying each of the dead men now. Preliminary indications are that every one of these men was an American citizen, and thereby we feel confident they were not part of a foreign military operation, either.”

                “I understand, Detective, thank you. One more question if I may,” proceeded the reporter, “Can you tell our viewers if you know how many victims we’re looking at?”

                “Preliminary indications are that these men were responsible for the recent rash of arson attacks, as we found evidence of gasoline burns on the bodies near the orphanages. I would hesitate to use the term victim to describe these men if our preliminary indications are correct,” Dukel said firmly, “As for how many of them there are, we are still in the process of counting the dead, but we’ve counted three hundred seventy-two at this scene. Now if you’ll excuse me I have a lot of work to do, this is a complicated and gruesome scene.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, observations, impressions, questions, or courteous critiques are always welcome! Let me know what you're liking or disliking about the story so far!


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The continuing story of the omega, Josh Colcord, and his alpha, Henri Barre, as their pack confronts the multitude of the Necropolis Corps, the Hunter's Soldiery's slayers of the undead.

                On the morning of the thirteenth of June, Josh learned that they had captured one of the Hunters attempting to torch one of the zombie orphanages, and were holding him for interrogation. Interrogation was a duty of the wolf-den commander, and as such, it fell to Josh to talk to the subject, for which reason he soon found himself in the column, standing in front of the secret door to the cellblock. As he took a breath, he heard footsteps and smelled the scent of cotton as Zuleika approached, standing behind him and to one side.

                “Allow me to assist you, young omega,” she said, looking forward and to the side, at him, to make eye contact with the wolf, “I possess potent abilities of telepathy and empathy, most Humans think very loudly, it will take me no effort to read him. You ask questions, and I will convey you the true answer to those questions based on his immediate reactive thoughts; Hunters are not trained to resist telepathic interrogation tactics.” Josh nodded, and then allowed her to follow him into the interrogation chamber between the cells, where the prisoner was in steel chains and under guard by Helle, Hildegarde, Cass, and Valentin. He nodded to the first two, allowing them to exit and go back to their regular day before he stepped forward, pulling a seat out and sitting down. Meanwhile, Zuleika stood beside the door, looking as if she were utterly bored.

                The prisoner was male, from the smell of him bathed within the last two days and aged approximately thirty-two years, apricot-skinned with hair of pale goldenrod blond and eyes of pale aqua blue. His tactical gear was stripped off, and he was wearing a pair of black cotton boxer-briefs with a noticeable bulge and a black cotton tee. Josh smirked a bit, the man’s pheromones of apprehension, fear, defiance, rage, hatred, and disgust, filtering into his lupine nostrils.

                “You were apprehended outside of the Scarlet Montenegro Orphanage,” Josh said in greeting as he picked a pen up and opened a manila folder, the man’s eyes narrowing at him.

                “What are you, monster?”

                “Funny choice of words,” Josh answered, “from a man that was sent to burn down an orphanage that was full of helpless children.” The man’s facial features twitched sharply, his disgust and defiance spiking.

                _His thought response balked at the use of the word ‘helpless,’ but he’s refusing to dignify the claim with a verbal response,_ Zuleika informed Josh telepathically. He blinked, tilting his head in feigned thought as he narrowed his eyes at the man accusatorily.

                “No comment, no excuses, no attempted justifications to mitigate your sentence, huh?” asked Josh, scenting a spike in the man’s fear and apprehension that were perhaps slightly more satisfying than they really should’ve been, “Well, all right, then. Your commander, what was his name?”

                _His commander’s name was Daniel Hanbury,_ Zuleika supplied to Josh mentally, _Subject’s name is Jonathon Meyerheim._ One eyebrow rose as Josh looked at the man, and then sighed as he feigned frustration, as if he felt like the interrogation was going annoyingly slow.

                “Look, Jonny, we know your commander’s name was Daniel Hanbury, there’s no reason for you to continue to attempt to deny us your cooperation,” he said, at which he smelled another satisfying spike of the pheromones of both apprehension and defiance in equal measure, “All right, have it your way. Hope they get the noose right this time, because the last time, the guy’s neck _didn’t_ snap and he hung there for thirty minutes thrashing around trying to get it off his neck before he finally asphyxiated.” The man’s fear and apprehension spiked again, as he fought hard to control himself as the wolf continued to press in on him.

                “Well, moving along. We know you’re a soldier from the Necropolis Corps, so why don’t you tell us where your unit was stationed,” Josh asked, and the man’s muscles tensed. His mind raced with images and information that whipped past so fast Zuleika lifted a hand to rub her forehead as if she had a sudden headache.

                _Mount Olive, near Mount Olive Road, Brewer Road, and Avon Circle. Here we go, look at this,_ Zuleika said into his mind soundlessly, before sharing a mental image of a map that had raced through the man’s brain, in answer to the question about where he had been stationed, and Josh blinked thoughtfully.

                “Look, we already know where it is, we’re just looking for confirmation. I mean, seriously, did your superiors think you were being, what, clever, putting it behind a Dollar General and a Cadence Bank?” The man’s apprehension and fear spiked again.

                “You’re not doing yourself any favours by refusing to give us any confirmations, here, we’ve got three other Hunters in our custody in other cellblocks, and they’re _singing_ in the hopes of avoiding execution,” Josh said, and Jon stared at him wide-eyed. He could smell a spike of disbelief-pheromones, could feel a hint of disbelief emanating out of his brain so powerfully that even the minor empathic sensitivity every wolf had could pick it up. He then just rolled his shoulders a little bit.

                “Eh, well, you don’t have to believe me,” Josh answered the man’s sensations, “I mean, how else would we know how many men you have in the installation up in Mount Olive?”

                _Sixteen thousand, seven hundred and forty-eight,_ Zuleika supplied. The man’s eyes widened and the pheromones of another spike of disbelief surged into the air.

                “Sixteen thousand seven hundred and forty-eight Hunters from the Necropolis Corps, coming for a few little zombies?” asked Josh, “I mean, that seems a little bit like overkill to me.” Another satisfying spike of apprehension, disbelief, and an incredibly rewarding surge of a new pheromone, horror, filtered into the air and into his nostrils. Josh couldn’t contain the satisfied smirk that formed on his lips as he looked at the increasingly horrified, frightened, and dismayed Hunter.

                “All right, well, it’s clear you’re not going to tell us anything your comrades didn’t already tell us, and you’re not going to confirm anything they’ve told us, and simply want to hasten your execution. Valentin,” Josh said, standing up and turning away, with his written notes derived from Zuleika’s telepathic listening, “put this bastard back in his cell and let the zombies know we’ve apprehended one of the terrorists they’ve been wanting to put on trial.” Valentin happily hauled the scant-clad human out of his seat and shoved him back into his cell, still chained, slamming the cell door and locking it before the lot of them left the cellblock section. As the door shut, Josh moved to the security centre while Zuleika and his pack-members resumed the relaxation that came between missions.

                “That went well,” Edmund said as Josh stepped into the security centre, “I’ve already sent the communication to the Dead Congress letting them know we have a subject ready for pickup. A prisoner transport will arrive tomorrow morning to pick up the prisoner and take him to trial, the Congress is eager to reassure their people that something _is_ being done about Necropolis Corps in the area. Also, we received an e-mail from the fortress, or more accurately you and alpha received a couple e-mails from the fortress, an application to join the pack at our next resupply delivery.”

                “Print it out for me,” Josh said, and Edmund’s hand rose immediately, holding a printout already, and moving to cup Josh’s ass lovingly once his omega took the paper.

                “Already did, omega,” Edmund answered, leaning close and lifting Josh’s shirt enough to kiss his stomach, just beside the navel. Josh looked down at him, stroking Edmund’s hair affectionately with his left hand while holding the printout in his right, and leaned down to kiss the top of his head lovingly.

                “Thank you, Edmund,” Josh replied appreciatively, earning a smile from his pack-member. Then, Josh moved to join his mate with the printout, withdrawing to their shared chamber so they could review the new application.

 

                _Alexander & William Hunlow, re: Joining Barre-Colcord Pack_

_Therian Age: 260_

_Combat Talents:_

_**Alexander:** 98.41% dual-wield handgun accuracy rating, 91.39% dual-wield SMG accuracy rating_

_94.53% long-range rifle accuracy rating, extensive training in capoeira, krav maga, sambo_

_**William:** 96.84% single-wield handgun accuracy rating, Level 4 expertise with nunchaku and knives_

_97.82% long-range rifle accuracy rating, extensive training in capoeira, krav maga, sambo_

_Mission Talents:_

_We are mindlinked as wolf-twins, providing improved stealth in hostile environment infiltrations._

**_Alexander:_ ** _I am skilled in SBR demolitions to effect entry into potentially hostile environments._

_**William:** I am talented in hacking, decryption, and electronic information retrieval from computers._

_Domestic Talents:_

_We are skilled in storehouse optimization and resource tracking._

_Personal Notes:_

_Our father was renowned military historian Gabriel Hunlow, our mother was Annabelle Hunlow._

_Our human birthdate is March 7 of 1,740 C. E., we were turned on August 18 of 1,763 C. E._

_We have 220 years’ training in capoeira, and we have trained in sambo and krav maga since their invention in the 1920’s and 1940’s, respectively._

_Additional Notes:_

_Neither of us are bitches._

_We are former members of the Crucco-Shuell Pack._

_**Alexander:** I have completed Vanguard training and have been designated field-ready._

_**William:** I have completed Infiltrator training and have been designated field-ready._

 

                “Their application looks good, and it looks like they would be a good addition to our pack,” Henri said, and Josh nodded to his alpha’s statement in agreement.

                “I think so, too. We should probably update our pack’s bulletin to note that we now have an increased need for a second bitch, though,” Josh replied, and Henri grinned at him teasingly. Not that he didn’t feel as if he was able to satisfy nine people every other day, but a second bitch would allow everyone in the pack to be attended daily, rather than only the omega. Despite that Edmund and Lyle were both excellent at sucking cock and taking it up the ass from their alpha, Josh didn’t want to ask them to accept full-time bitch duties. They were hedonistic and loved sex intensely, but the omega knew that unlike him, they simply weren’t bitches, and so it wouldn’t be nice to ask them to do that.

                “Oh, do we? Seven big juicy pricks and a couple sweet pussies too much for you, gorgeous?” came the query. When Josh’s cheeks tinted faintly pink, Henri’s expression was one of amusement and self-satisfaction before leaning over and kissing his mate’s lips lovingly.

                “Don’t worry, beloved, if you think we need a second bitch in the den, then the next couple people we take in will be bitches,” Henri promised, “I’m sure nobody would complain about having a pair of secondary bitches in the den, after all, but I think you’ll always be everyone’s first choice.”

                “Yeah, but you have to say that, alpha,” Josh replied with a faint blush, charmed by the idea that even if their pack had three bitches, he’d still be the one everyone most wanted to plough.

                “No, really,” Henri assured him, pulling him close and kissing his lips firmly as the young omega’s hips slid out of his seat and onto his alpha’s lap, “Josh, you are an amazing, beautiful, extraordinary bitch, you sweet little slut. The entire pack respects and adores our primary bitch, trust me, you will always be first choice.” Henri kissed him on the lips again, smiling at the blush that coloured his mate’s cheeks at the praise and the assurance of how much their pack appreciated him. When he pulled back, he slapped Josh’s ass firmly.

                “Now go tell Edmund to let the twins know their applications have been accepted and we will expect them to arrive with this month’s resupply shipment,” Henri said, and Josh promptly slid from his lap and did what his alpha requested of him.

                A few minutes following Edmund’s sending of the response, there was a prompt response of gratitude with a promise to be there on-schedule for the shipment that would arrive on the sixteenth.

  

* * *

 

 

                When the sixteenth rolled around, Josh was up and moving by 7:00 AM, rousing the pack promptly to get an early start in advance of the supply shipment. He didn’t believe in making his pack work while hammered by sexual frustration, and so made sure to tend Valentin first, letting the diminutive wolf hammer him as hard as he might need to. Then, while Valentin was making breakfast, made sure that everyone had their chance to receive as much attention from him as needed. Since their undead allies would be assisting in that, Josh went the extra mile and made sure that Aristos, Marcel, and Shawn, were also attended to in full. As Shawn’s thick phallic shaft slid from his mouth, Valentin opened the door of the glass-tiled kitchen and announced that everyone’s breakfast was ready. On this particular day, it proved to be something quicker and easier than pancakes, since they had a lot of work to do. Thus, breakfast came in the form of eggs, fried and seasoned potatoes, and sausage patties that were slightly on the hot side.

                By 9:00 AM, Josh stood outside the den at the top of the ramp, as did more than two-thirds of those he had just tended to, with only Edmund, Valentin, and Zuleika. They remained inside to direct the stocking and ensure each item reached the appropriate destination, and that the delivery would roll through like a well-oiled machine. When the delivery trucks arrived, a convoy of three large vehicles of a plain and unassuming white colouration with no markings on the sides, two new faces hopped out of the back of one of them. Practically identical save for the minutest detail of their appearances, they were quite obviously the twins who just joined the pack and were now on-site for their alpha and omega to inspect, as the supply crates were unloaded. Both attired as if for a mission with all of their associated combat gear, it made it much easier to distinguish one from the other, since one was a Vanguard and the other was an Infiltrator, a working team. Each one had a better than moderate tan on an otherwise fair complexion, shoulder-length hair of dandelion blond and irises of apple green. Both stood five feet eight inches in height and one hundred fifty pounds of corded wolven musculature, with the slimness of a healthy diet and consistent athletic activity.

                “Alexander, William,” Henri greeted, shaking hands with the twin whose hips had two submachine guns holstered on them, as well as two standard pistols. He next shook hands with the other twin, whose hips sported only a single holstered handgun, but also a set of nunchaku, and four lethally sharp knives.

                “Welcome to Birmingham,” Josh continued, as he proceeded to shake hands with each one, following Henri’s example, as ever, “and welcome to the pack. For now, let’s get these crates unloaded, and then I’ll see that you’re attended to and introduce you to the rest of our pack.”

                “Yes, omega,” the twins responded in near-unison, quickly grabbing crates and joining their new pack-mates in the process of unloading. They navigated the wolf-den with the expertise of two wolves who had already been on active field duty somewhere else, familiar with the standardized layout. Josh liked the layout of the wolf-den, it had a natural feel to it, a homeliness and a logic that was comfortable and reassuring, and the aesthetically pleasing nature of the décor, didn’t hurt, either.

                Once all of their supplies were unloaded, as well as the twins’ transportable belongings, the trucks pulled out and the pack returned to the wolf-den. Josh promptly escorted the twins down the stairs on the same side as his personal quarters shared with the alpha were located.

                “Will you require separate rooms, or are you accustomed to sharing one?”

                “We share a room,” Alexander replied promptly, in a sweet, deep baritone, “we brought a second bed, we’ll assemble it today and get it positioned so that we can sleep as we’re accustomed to sleeping, omega.”

                “Thank you, omega,” William added, and Alexander quickly nodded.

                “Thank you, omega,” Alexander added, remembering proper manners.

                “You’re quite welcome,” Josh said with a warm, approachable smile, before motioning toward the hallway’s eighth room, and the twins entered without complaint. He watched them enter, then proceeded into what would now be officially the twins’ room, which none would be permitted to enter uninvited.

                “So, omega,” said Alexander, as he started removing his tactical gear and set it neatly aside, an action William was mirroring on the opposite side of the room, “You’re also a bitch, right?”

                “Yes,” Josh replied, closing the door and leaning against it to provide the boys whatever privacy they might desire for their first time with their new bitch.

                “See, I told you,” William said as he looked over his shoulder at his twin, “Our new pack has an actual bitch omega.” Alexander smiled sheepishly and rolled his shoulders.

                “We’ve never been in a pack that had a bitch omega, I’ve never even met a bitch omega,” Alexander answered defensively, and Josh chuckled and simply rolled his shoulders.

                “It’s okay. I know it’s a little complicated, your bitch being also your omega,” Josh said, and Alexander gave an almost-shy smile at the validation.

                “Alex thought it was a typo, because we’ve never actually, you know, met a bitch that was also an omega,” Will explained, and Josh nodded.

                “It’s completely understandable you weren’t sure that bitch omegas existed if you’ve never met one before,” Josh said in an unreproachful tone, “I am a bitch, the pack’s primary one and for the moment the pack’s only one.”

                “Wait, you’re the only bitch in the entire pack so far?” asked Will, a little surprised.

                “Our last pack had fourteen members, and four of them were bitches,” Alex explained, “I mean, not that we mind sharing a bitch, of course, but our last pack, we more or less had our own bitch.”

                “She was a real sweetheart,” Will added, “she wasn’t just a hot slut, she was an amazing listener. It was really therapeutic having someone to talk to whenever we felt like it. She was basically assigned to us by our last alpha.”

                “So what happened with your last pack that you needed to look for a new one?”

                “Oh, our alpha, Donatien Crucco, reached Eldership. Once you reach Eldership they basically bring you back to live in the fortress or one of the clan’s sanctuaries around the world, you’re no longer eligible for active field duty, anymore, at that point. Your responsibilities to the clan increase, and etcetera; I mean, obviously, the bonds of a pack are timeless, you sort of become almost closer than family to the people you’re in a pack with,” Alexander answered, “Bitches are the centre of the pack’s ability to bond with each other, after all. An Elder’s pack is basically disbanded, though, when they reach adulthood, and the younger wolves are brought back to a fortress or a sanctuary to wait for a new pack to be available for them to join whose alpha and omega will welcome them.”

                “It’s why bitches like you are so respected, you give yourselves over as the link that binds us all to each other, you fuse the pack into a real unit,” Will continued, “Of course, there’re other ways to bond, because some wolves are asexual and obviously a bitch can’t help asexual wolves bond with their pack-mates. You’re a priceless commodity to our way of life, omega, to put it quite bluntly.” As they spoke, the twins stripped themselves nude, and then William pressed him firmly against the door, kissing him hard as he unbuttoned and unzipped Josh’s shorts. The bitch was still barefoot as always, making himself easier for someone to strip naked for their own personal use and enjoyment.

                Even as William dropped them around his ankles and Josh stepped out of them, Alex grabbed the collar of his shirt as his twin stopped kissing him, hauling it up over his head. Alexander pinned him against the door, kissing him predatorily himself, a low, lupine growl as he tossed the shirt aside, leaving all three now fully nude. Then, Alex half-pulled and half-pushed Josh onto his knees, pushing his head down on William’s cock as he forced the bitch’s lips down to the hilt of the eight-and-a-half-inch shaft. The two-inch thickness filled the kneeling bitch’s mouth, and Josh started to suck the moment the plush head slid through his lips.

                “Suck that cock, slut,” growled Alexander in arousal, his own cock steel-hard and the twins’ arousal filling his nostrils with their pheromones. Josh sucked harder, moaning softly to send pleasurable vibrations into the length of one cock as his hand lifted to curl fingers around the other and begin stroking it gently. When Josh started to stroke his cock, Alexander’s hand slipped out of his hair and William’s fingers wriggled into those same dark brown strands, as he began to fuck the bitch’s mouth hard, fast, and deep. Josh closed his eyes and welcomed it as Will pumped firmly against his mouth with that thick cock, continuing to moan gently on it as he sucked, rolling his tongue gently around the sensitive phallic shaft. He focused all his attention on it as his soft lips caressed the length of it, passing between them, while his hand moved in swifter strokes along the entirety of Alexander’s shaft. Even as he felt William’s prick starting to pulse faintly on his tongue, Josh moaned gently to encourage him, until William forced it to the hilt and his seed surged out in thick streams down his throat.

                As William withdrew, slowly pulling his hips back and sliding his prick from Josh’s mouth, his fingers slowly tightened in his hair. When the plush head of his cock slipped out of Josh’s mouth, he yanked the bitch’s hair and then shoved his head down on Alex’s rod. He forced the bitch’s head to move up and down fast and hard as his twin started to fuck that mouth, Josh’s hand sliding down from the cock onto Alex’s hips. Alex’s muscles tensed, his hips moved quick and hard, slamming into that mouth with his thick shaft of phallic muscle as Will forced the bitch’s head to rise and fall swifter than he’d be able to move his head, himself. Most would probably have choked on it, but between the fact that his alpha was considerably larger and the fact he was an experienced fellator, the bitch continued to suck hard as that cock slammed into his throat violently. Will’s other hand moved down to his shoulder, clenching tightly against it as the stinging pain in Josh’s scalp continued to sear with the merciless yanking on his hair. His throat welcomed it as Alexander’s cock slid into it repeatedly, his lips forced repeatedly down to the hilt until he felt Alex’s cock starting to pulse hard in his mouth. Will held him in place as his twin’s seed pulsed into his throat, his lips wrapped about the hilt. Josh swallowed receptively, stroking Alex’s cock with the muscles of his throat and drawing out the last vestige of Alexander’s release, at which point the wolf pulled back from his mouth slowly, steadily.

                “Whew, that was amazing,” breathed Alexander as he leaned back, William’s fingers in the eternal eighteen-year-old’s hair relaxing and slipping free to let him clothe himself once more. Both young men were exhausted from a long trip from Colorado to Alabama, and it had perhaps had a direct impact on their stamina, sexually, but they were nevertheless eager to experience him. Once they had, they were now ready for something else entirely, and were quick to unpack some of their clothes and get dressed in casualwear, jeans and plain ash-grey tees. They remained barefoot, as was common for wolves, the feel of the warm hardwood underfoot as they walked to the central hall, wherein Josh soon introduced them to everyone else in the pack, officially.

                At lunchtime, the pack gathered at the dining table, large enough for a complete pack to sit around it and with enough room for even a few guests besides. The twins decided to tell a bit more of their life stories to their alpha and omega, the rest of their pack, and the undead allies who were presently sharing their den during the current long-term operation.

                “Our father was the famous eighteen century military historian Gabriel Hunlow, a devout Roman Catholic in Leeds, England, before our grandparents moved to this country in 1,710 while he was still a boy. He became a military historian in the colonies, and married a woman named Annabelle Welbank; mother always said she was smitten with him at once, that she found his military histories fascinating. It’s why we’re named as we are; William was named for William Wallace, and I was named for Alexander the Great,” Alex said as his twin took a bite of the steak they were having for lunch, “Mother was, also, a devout member of the Roman Catholic faith. Naturally, as the sons of a military historian, our childhood included thorough study of the great historical conquerors from all the cultures our father was able to get his hands on the records for whom. I think he hoped we would become great generals, someday, but we’re not alpha types, we’re not the sort to be commanders of whole theatres of war. Still, we put that tactical awareness to excellent use, I think, in the 1,770s when we aided the colonists in the war for independence that created this nation.”

                “Father encountered the Masquerade, firsthand, in the 1,730s, and immediately wrote the Pope in the hopes of convincing the leader of the Catholic Faith to embrace the Masquerade as friends and allies,” William picked up as Alexander left off to eat some of his own steak, “This, sadly, went… rather poorly. Our father was excommunicated for heresy in 1,737, before we were born, for claiming therians not only existed, but that they were our guardians and more than that, our friends. Mother refused to be divorced from him, and so she was excommunicated in 1,738 for her refusal to distance herself from her denounced husband. Our parents embraced the spiritualism of the Masquerade in 1,739 shortly before our conception, and we were raised as members of the Masquerade, as humanists and naturalists. I think it was only a matter of time before the two of us decided to accept the offer of eternality, and became members of some element of the Masquerade. It happened, happily, that we matched to the standards and requirements of Clan Aatu, and so we were brought into the wolf-clan by a near-Elder named Bernát Velf, a Hungarian; he told us he was born to the name of Velfling, but when he was bitten he dropped the suffix of ling.”

                “My mother was also a devout member of the Roman Catholic Church,” Valentin put in, “Albeit, given that it was Czechoslovakia in the mid-1,600s, that’s hardly a surprise. There wasn’t a lot of religious diversity in Europe, roundabout those centuries, the Papacy was at the height of its’ power, or at least that’s how it seemed to me. Probably because I was born shortly after the Catholic Church reclaimed control over Czechoslovakian souls. We were members of the Hussite sect, a sort of Protestant, from the death of Jan Hus in 1,415 until 1,625 at the end of the Thirty Years’ War.” Valentin paused thoughtfully then rolled his shoulders a bit.

                “Not that it made a huge difference to me, they were both assholes, at the time, when it came to being gay or transgendered,” Valentin concluded, “and myself being both transgendered and somewhere between gay and bisexual, well, I wasn’t going to be popular with either one. So, it wouldn’t have made a whole fat lot of difference to me if my homeland was Catholic faithful or Hussite heretics, because of that.”

                “I think a lot of us come from the Catholic background, given the puissant hold the Catholic Church held on Europe for centuries, almost unbroken and nearly absolute,” Henri agreed, “Still, there were always protestants, or at least to some extent of dissent and objection. My parents, for instance, refused to embrace the priests’ humanocentric, geocentric ideologies about the place of humankind and of the Earth in general in the grand scheme of the universe. I was always raised to _know_ , not just believe but **know** , that our planet was not the centre of the universe and that simply because we were human that didn’t make our species the only intelligent species anywhere or for that matter, even the most important.”

                “Our family was more protestant than the most protestant of Protestants, I think,” Henri continued, “Quietly, we fomented the seeds of dissent within the faithful; the seeds of intellectual protestation against doctrines that went against what our wolf allies taught us of Yeshua’s teachings. We were taught that Yeshua taught a selection of basic, core values: compassion, generosity, respect, tolerance, acceptance, understanding, honour, love, peacefulness, a right to defend yourself and a right to protect others. Almost every faith has killed in the name of a deity that told them not to, as if doing it in the name of the deity telling you not to do it at all suddenly makes it a righteous act.”

                “My parents were Quakers,” Akoko said, sharing with some pack-members something about herself that was already known to some of them, “they were part of the majority who opposed the slave trade, partially because of our own ethnic ancestry. Due to our Dutch ancestor, we were freemen and freewomen, not subject to the trade at all and well respected in our community, though we were also protected against harassment through our association with the Masquerade. Perhaps my family’s high repute amidst our Quaker community was part of the reason that an increasing number of Quakers came to oppose the slave trade, leading to the virtual abolition of support for slavery by the mid-1,700s among Quakers. Obviously, I can’t say that with any complete certainty, but I feel like it might have been at a minimum, a contributing factor.”

                “That would definitely make sense,” Helle said, “My parents were Mormons at a time when Mormons were still embracing polygamy, and when I was little, they were talking about who they wanted to give me to. Give me to, as if I was a box of chocolates or a kitten, to be married to some far-older creeper that had two or three wives _already_. I was delighted when the Mormon church banned the practice a few years later, but by then, it was too late, and there was no way that I was ever going to return to a family that saw me as a bargaining chip and not a person. Mormonism’s come a long way since then, I suppose, but it still has not come far enough for it to appeal to me, maybe it never will.”

                “Both of us are from Protestant families,” Lyle said, nodding to Edmund indicatively as he spoke, “we never really embraced that ideology, though, or any Christian ideology, for that matter. I mean, over the decades, we’ve met a lot of really amazing people; Christians, Jews, Muslims, atheists… one’s religious beliefs, or the lack thereof, doesn’t really have a massive impact on whether they’re good people or not. I think it boils down to one’s ability to use their brain, follow their heart, and distinguish right from wrong: nothing about atheism makes it easier for an atheist to be an asshole than it is for a Christian to be an asshole.”

                “Our parents were assholes, for instance,” Edmund continued, “devout Protestants… but, also, complete and total assholes. If they’d known we were bisexual, they would doubtless have evicted us amidst a bombardment of all manner of unpleasant and unrepeatable words, ‘sodomite’ in all likelihood being the _politest_ of which. Unfortunately, our parents were highly homophobic, and it was to our very great fortune that we were bitten shortly after we reached adulthood. They had _no_ respect for our lost, and now avenged, third musketeer, after he came out of the closet so that he could humiliate that ruddy git, Anthony Rutledge.”

                “My parents are your quintessential wolven spiritualists,” Hildegarde said thoughtfully, the sole purebred of the pack, “embraced the clan’s perspective of humanism and naturalism for centuries before I came along, so naturally I was raised as such. They taught me that we should use our power to protect our environment from humans, as much as possible, and to protect humans from each other, as often as we possibly can. Humans commit many crimes against each other… for lust, for power, for money, in the name of some supposedly peaceful deity with antonymously warlike followers, out of discriminative hatred or supremacism. I was raised to know that as a wolf, it is my responsibility to stop as much of that as I can, even if such interventionism and protectionism might someday cause me personal harm or potentially even death.”

                “It’s a noble responsibility to accept and embrace,” Aristos said with a nod, “I think we can all agree to that. My parents were Spartans, of course, and so as you might suspect, I was raised in an adherence to the Hellenic gods, most particularly Ares, whom we exalted above all others. He was one of the few gods of our culture not accused of raping someone somewhere sometime, which people found hilarious, with fair reason I suppose. Ares the god of war, violence, bloodshed, and slaughter being simultaneously the champion of women, denouncer of rape, and the protector of womanly virtue? You have to kind of admire the irony in this one: Poseidon’s son rapes the daughter of a male god of war, and Ares fucking smites the little bastard on the spot. When Poseidon himself rapes the priestess of a goddess of women, Athena punishes her priestess instead of demanding that her father, king of the gods, punish the offending sea-god.”

                “Just as predictably, perhaps,” Marcel added, “my parents were adherents of the Celtic pantheon, and it’s the faith I was raised in. Following my death, however, I converted away from that immediately since on my death, well, I learned that nothing was the way I had been raised to think it would be. Metaphorically, I lived through being killed, and survived dying, and even according to Celtic polytheism, that’s not really something that’s supposed to happen.”

                “I had much the same experience,” Zuleika nodded in turn, “My family were followers of what we’d today call Persian mythology, and that’s what I was raised believing. Obviously, when I rose from the dead as a Mummy… it kind of convinced me that I’d believed the wrong thing, and I set out to work out for myself what I wanted to believe in.” She paused thoughtfully, but then rolled her shoulders.

                “It was a couple thousand years of soul-searching, but I finally decided I liked the way that the therians look at things, the way the therian clans approach it all,” Zuleika concluded, “So I’d comfortably describe myself as being a spiritual humanist and naturalist, too.”

                “I was born during a time of much religious upheaval in the Netherlands,” Cass added, zir voice pensive and quiet, “It was the year 1,386 when I was born, and 1,407 when I was turned. The fifteenth century was rife with calls for reformation within the Catholic faith, it paved the way for the Protestant Reformation in some regards, and it led to the adoption of some level of humanism by Desiderius Erasmus, when I was about a hundred twenty or thereabouts. My parents were devout Roman Catholics, and I always thought that we should think of our differences, uniqueness, and diversity, as what makes the world great and beautiful. It wasn’t hard for me to leave Catholicism in my past when I was turned.”

                “My parents were atheists,” Shawn said, “Not the cool atheists that are like, you know, the ‘it is completely okay you do not believe in what they want you to believe in’ type. No, my parents were the asshole atheists that felt entitled to verbally and emotionally abuse religious people, to deride and belittle religious people the same way that religious people have derided atheists and each other for thousands of years. Their words and actions were just heinous and vile, and while I loved my parents, the way they behaved made it difficult for me to mourn their deaths when they were murdered.”

                “I mean, to some extent, I feel bad about not mourning for them, because they were decent as parents, albeit I learned ethics and integrity from other sources, but at the same time, can you really mourn for people who preached a message of abhorrence, nastiness, and intolerance?” concluded the zombie, before rolling his shoulders.

                “My parents always described themselves as nondenominational, biosophistic Christians,” Josh said, “They always lived as close to the biosophic principles as our country would allow. Kindness, compassion, and generosity, were absolutely the cornerstones of how my parents lived their lives, I guess that’s what made it hard for me to handle and process their deaths, and maybe that is why I accepted your offer of immortality.” He looked toward his alpha as he said that, smiling affectionately at him.

                “I felt like maybe the best way I could honour them would be to live for as long as possible embracing their way-of-life and their values,” Josh concluded. He wasn’t sure how they would have felt about their son having become the nymphic bitch of a wolf-pack, but he knew he had centuries to make them proud. Perhaps, someday, he would feel confident enough to ask the aid of someone from the Cassandre Coven in determining how his parents felt about how he was living, but for now, he wasn’t ready for that.

                The rest of the day passed peacefully enough, as they studied maps provided by the local undead community, showing the location of the residences of the undead in Birmingham. Clearly marked were the homes of every zombie, every revenant, every mummy, and humans regularly sharing their bodies with ghosts; the challenge was figuring out which might be the next target of the Necropolis Corps. They had to be planning another attack, they weren’t dissuaded by the fact that one of their attacks had failed miserably, and there was no guarantee those orphanages might not still be attacked _again_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any comments, observations, impressions, questions, or courteous/constructive critiques, are welcome. Please feel free to let me know how you're liking the story or characters so far, or what if anything you dislike about the story or about any given character in the story so far.


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The continuing story of the omega, Josh Colcord, and his alpha, Henri Barre, as their pack confronts the multitude of the Necropolis Corps, the Hunter's Soldiery's slayers of the undead.

                On the morning of the much-celebrated Fourth of July, Josh stirred from his sleep and sat up, looking around for a moment as he slid out of the bed and turned up the lights. He found Henri missing, his lover waking before him, as he almost never did, he turned when the door opened and his mate stepped inside. Henri was dressed, albeit as his mate turned to him nude, he smiled and looked over his omega with a predatory appreciation for his mate’s physical form. He crossed the room, arms rising to pin his mate against the wall before kissing him passionately on the lips and pressing against him firmly. Henri kissed him for only a moment before pulling back.

                “Fuck, you’re beautiful even when you just wake up,” Henri praised, “Come on, get dressed, Valentin’s got breakfast readied early.” Josh nodded and quickly slid into a pair of white boxer-briefs and then a comfortable pair of ankle-length fern green jeans, followed by a honeydew-green sleeveless. He felt green today, though Henri found that an adorable choice that complimented his eyes and went beautifully with his dark brown hair.

                When they arrived in the living room a few moments later, the others of the pack and their undead allies were filtering in slowly, as Valentin put out the plates for an early breakfast.

                “Good morning, omega,” Valentin greeted affectionately, “I fixed your favourite this morning – blueberry waffles with blueberry drizzle, two sausage patties, and hot chocolate with whipped cream and marshmallows.” The meal set down before him as his pack-member spoke, he smiled and looked up at him inquisitively.

                “What’d I do to deserve all this?” came the natural question. Valentin smiled, kissing his lips gently as his omega looked up at him, then rolled his shoulders.

                “The same thing you do every day. You just continue to be a wonderful omega and just the sweetest, sexiest bitch ever,” Valentin replied adoringly, before continuing with setting out breakfast for the rest of them, which would be first-come first-serve. He’d prepared Josh’s meal special, because he’d paid attention and knew what his omega’s favourite breakfast was by heart. It was a tossup between blueberry, raspberry, strawberry, and blackberry, but he felt like he was slowly getting a clear instinct on which one Josh would want on a particular day, even out of those four.

                “Let’s see what’s on the news this morning,” Lyle said as he sat down, turning on the television in the dining room, to allow them to eat breakfast and remain aware of developments humans were aware of as they did.

                “Alpha, omega!” said Edmund as he burst late into the dining room, quickly grabbing his plate and starting to fix himself a breakfast as Josh was eating, slowly, relishing his breakfast. He delayed a moment as Lyle muted the news and while Edmund fixed his plate a bit.

                “We received correspondence from our contact in the FBI. He’s managed to convince the National Guard to mobilize several local platoons to defend the recently-attacked orphanages. They are sending two platoons to each of them, so there will soon be sixty National Guardsmen stationed at the Scarlet Montenegro Orphanage, the White Swan Orphanage, and the Anna Duncan Orphanage,” Edmund continued.

                “Good, that should adequately discourage the Hunters from making second attempts and allow us to turn our attention toward figuring out their next targets,” Henri said with a nod.

                “Speaking of that, we need to find a way to infiltrate their mainframe and acquire the immediately pertinent records about their assault plans,” Josh added.

                “We’ll take care of that,” Zuleika said, “We’ve been talking, and we have a mission in mind. Aristos, Marcel, Shawn, and I, will infiltrate the Hunter compound. Shawn and I will distract them at one site, while Aristos and Marcel sneak in and data-mine their mainframe. We’ll need some explosives, because the plan calls for them to blow up that mainframe once they’re done and bomb their way back out to cause as much havoc as possible.”

                “Excellent idea,” Josh agreed, “Akoko, see to it our friends are supplied with all the explosives they require, as much as we can provide at least.”

                “ _… reports indicate that since President Devonshire’s aggressive, economically imprudent tax reformation, Koch industries and the Walton family’s enterprises have suffered a critical loss of revenue across the board. The new CEO of Koch industries has cited concerns that …_ ” rambled the newscaster.

                “That’s about enough of _that_ bullshit, Fox Lies,” Josh said, taking the controller and changing the channel to one more respectable for honest journalistic news broadcasting, “I can’t wait for the day when they don’t let the news blatantly lie and mislead people.”

                “Samantha Wehr is already campaigning for the election next year. She has promised to pursue laws to reform corporate and journalistic behaviour in the United States, enhance the criminal justice system, and refine the legislative process in the United States,” Henri added, “I started doing a bit of research on her after you mentioned having done a report on her. You’re right, she’s quite fascinating, baby.”

                “Anyhow, Zuleika,” Henri continued, changing focus, “I think you guys have an excellent idea for gathering intelligence. It would allow us to choose more effectively which zombies are in urgent need of our protective efforts.”

                “When do you plan to make your attack?”

                “I was thinking that it should be this evening,” Shawn replied, “Two-thirds of the Hunters in the Necropolis Corps are diurnal, since the undead don’t operate on set schedules or even with preferred schedules. Attacking their compound at the end of the day should maximize the chaos and the impact on their forces, while minimizing our own risk factors.”

                “We don’t want to bring any living persons with us, however, because we don’t want to put the living at risk, unnecessarily,” Aristos added, and both alpha and omega nodded to that.

                “Responsible and considerate,” Henri praised agreeably as he finished his breakfast, and noticed that his mate had emptied his plate and had nearly emptied his mug. He felt the familiar stir of desire, as his hand slid out to Josh’s, fingers wriggling between his lover’s to grip his hand affectionately, and in a warmly possessive manner.

                “If you will excuse us, I think my alpha has need of me,” Josh said, as Henri slid out of his seat before pulling the youthful omega from his own. The eternal eighteen-year-old quickly set his empty mug down and followed behind, into the still-vacant baths where water steamed, and bubbled slightly.

                Henri walked down the stairs into the pool of heated water, pulling Josh gently behind him until both of them were submerged chest-deep. His alpha pulled him gently toward the edge of the pool, sliding down to sit at one of the submerged benches that brought the water up to his neck, and allowed him to soak in the water. Josh slid down in the water, taking a deep breath before he knelt and submerged himself to move to Henri’s prick, sliding his tongue through the silk curves of his lips to begin licking it. Henri sighed in pleasure above him, chest rising and falling in the motion, as one hand slid underwater to stroke gently through his mate’s floating hair.

                The eternal eighteen-year-old soon slid his lips around the plush head of his lover’s shaft, and then slid down it, holding his breath as he started to suck his cock firmly. His head moved up and down forcefully, though not nearly as quickly as he could have if not for the warm embrace of the bathwater. Henri closed his eyes and moaned softly in pleasure as he caressed his omega’s scalp adoringly, stroking through floating strands of silky softness. Josh smiled in pleasure around the length of phallic muscle in his mouth as he rose and sank against it, taking it to the hilt within his throat each time. Finally, after three minutes of slow and sensuous cocksucking, he slid up from the length of cock, hands on Henri’s toned, handsome thighs, pushing himself up until his body broke the surface of the water. He took a deep breath, as Henri’s fingers in his hair tightened into a firm grasp, pulling gently to make Josh arch his body. Henri leaned forward to bite the left nape of his neck hard as he felt Josh’s fingers clench his thighs in answer, a whimpering gasp of pleasure as he refilled his lungs.

                “I love you, bitch,” Henri breathed lovingly as he felt Josh pulling himself down, taking a deep breath as his head neared the water. He pushed his mate’s head down on his cock, helping Josh to take the full length of his prick, despite the resistance of the water, itself. Josh’s lips slid to the hilt, moaning lovingly around it as he started bobbing his head once more, holding his breath until he had to pull up for a new breath after a further three minutes of sucking.

                “Damn, how big are your lungs, baby?” breathed Henri, astounded and stimulated by the entire experience, leaning forward and catching his breath by clamping his teeth onto Josh’s nape once more. Josh gasped in pleasure, fingers clutching his mate’s thighs firmly but gently, arching submissively against it until Henri released his bite, and smiled at him.

                “I’ve never had my cock sucked like this before,” Henri admitted, and Josh brimmed with elation to learn he had found something that he could do for his mate that nobody had ever done before. He pulled down, taking a breath, and twice more he sucked slowly and firmly for three minutes before taking another breath. Finally, halfway through the fifth round and after thirteen minutes of oral attention, that impressive thirteen-inch cock began to pulse forcefully in his mouth. Henri instinctively pushed him down until his balls slid into his mate’s mouth, and Josh’s lips clamped firmly around that base as his lover’s seed surged into the bottom of his throat. He swallowed hard, stroking his mate’s prick from the steel-hard base to the plush velvet of the head, and pulling that release directly into his stomach. Henri held him down for over a minute, until Josh was allowed to slide up slowly. Having plenty of air still in his lungs, the omega slid up as slowly as possible, pulling out every drop until the last of his release was drawn onto the tip of Josh’s tongue. He swallowed with a sigh of satisfaction, before rising out of the water slowly, Henri’s hands sliding down to his hips, cupping his ass and squeezing lovingly.

                “Holy Hannah, that was extraordinary,” Henri breathed, looking down into Josh’s eyes as soon as his mate’s head broke through the surface of the bathwater. He pulled his mate up, smiling as he felt his omega’s legs slide gently across his own, until Josh’s cock brushed across his alpha’s considerably larger phallus.

                “You are amazing, my beautiful boy,” Henri praised lovingly, pulling Josh close to kiss him, one hand soon tightening in the strands of his hair to hold him close. He kissed him for several moments, and slid his hand down out of his hair to his ass, cupping it lovingly with both palms. Then, he stood, holding Josh with a gentle, squeezing grasp on his rump with both hands, pulling him up and turning to pin Josh against the edge of the bath from his lower back to his thighs. As he pulled back from the kiss, Josh took a deep breath, followed by a whimpering sigh of pleasure as Henri’s teeth clamped down on his shoulder. He released his bite, lifting his head to look into Josh’s eyes and smiled at the happy, aroused expression that decorated his mate’s face at that moment. It was clear the eternal eighteen-year-old derived both emotional and sexual satisfaction from the experience of Henri’s teeth and fangs clamping down into his muscles.

                “How do you want it, baby?” asked Henri, whispering lovingly into his ear, “You want it, don’t you, my cute little bitch?” His teeth released long enough to whisper, then his head lowered to bite him again, tightening his grasp on that toned, pert rump.

                “Fuck… yes… fuck me, alpha,” Josh whimpered in pleasure, arching submissively, words interrupted by one aroused, heavy breath, after the next. As Henri released his bite, Josh twisted until he had his chest against the bath’s edge, hands sliding out of the water as he gripped at it with his arms pressed against it from wrist to elbow. Henri gave a smile as he reached down between them, angling his rod into position then grabbing Josh’s ass and parting his cheeks to allow the plush tip of his shaft to touch his rear entrance. He smiled as he pushed up, sliding into him and found his lover’s body had already begun the auto-lubrication process, allowing his thirteen-inch shaft to glide smoothly up into him. As the entire length came to rest, that tight ass embracing him to the hilt, he slid his hands around his mate, with fingernails coming to rest digging into his skin just below the shoulders. He leaned down, biting Josh’s other shoulder, beginning to drag his nails down his lover’s chest, scratching firmly as his hips started to move, fucking his ass hard and fast, in spite of the water.

                His hips rolled back against Henri’s cock as his mate started to ride into him, Josh closing his eyes in pleasure as he bucked firmly. As he did, his own cock brushed against the smooth, dark blue glass tiles of the pool as he arched his back hard, pulling back then sliding forward as Henri withdrew, then arching sharply again as Henri thrust inside of him. Henri bucked firmly in time with his mate’s movements, fingernails creating bright red lines down his omega’s chest all the way to the hips and soliciting a loud moan of satisfaction both masochistic and sexual. As his Cajun alpha bucked hard one last time, he arched and gasped as Henri bit his shoulder again, and felt his lover’s seed surging up into him, holding himself firmly against his omega for several moments.

  

* * *

 

 

                The day felt like it passed quickly, to Zuleika, as she walked slowly toward the compound, formfitting black cotton covering most of her body, with leather where the cotton was not. She wore calf-high boots and wrist-length gloves, the former of which having a black metal zipper that made them cling tight to toned calves, with a long-sleeved shirt and ankle-length pants. A belt of braided black leather wrapped around her waist, black metal buckle holding it tightly in place as she walked forward, apparently unarmed.

                The compound itself was blocky, shaped somewhat like an L, with an entrance in the corner and another on the entirely other side of the building, on the outside of the shorter section. Veiled from visibility to the civilian homes and businesses nearby by thick stands of trees, it was itself in a clearing that gave it a line of sight of one hundred feet in every direction. The building, itself, was two hundred feet long on the longest wall, eighty feet wide in the widest dimension, and forty feet wide in the narrowest dimension. Only a single floor aboveground, the compound was able to hide easily despite the populated area that it was surrounded by. As Zuleika approached the inside corner of the L-shaped compound, she expanded her senses in every direction. Shawn armed with a high-powered Pathfinder-variant sniper rifle equipped with a scope with an infrared visor to track heat signatures since that was something Zuleika did not have, one hundred twenty feet away and hidden in the underbrush.

                As she came to a stop seventy feet from the wall and well within the visibility of their cameras, she felt their response around her; more of it underground than at ground level. Some of them were even directly beneath her feet, though their compound lacked any means by which to sneak up on her. A thousand minds surged up stairwells toward her, a thousand psychic signatures of shock, hate, rage. Her clairvoyance and clairaudience expanded, and she watched and listened as a thousand armed fighters rushed up the stairs, some with silenced rifles and others armed with clubs, swords, and knives. The proximity of civilians meant silence was needed, they couldn’t be firing off an army’s worth of 45-caliber hand-cannons and expecting nobody to call in and report it to the local or state police. Nervousness and concern of discovery filled their minds as readily as disbelief, loathing, and wrath, even as Zuleika explored the entire compound with her mind. More than sixteen thousand minds within the compound, but most of them were asleep by this point, just two hours before midnight, and they weren’t being awakened. If all went according to plan, every one of them would be awake within the hour, though by then it would be too late as the fight would be over by that point.

                Zuleika linked her mind to the Englishman’s mind, then to the Frank’s mind, and then to the Spartan’s mind. Shawn’s ability to aim enhanced with a clearer image of his targets and their locations, as Aristos and Marcel examined the map she was providing. Hidden doors opened at the same moment as the known door opened, and as men poured out of four doors in the interior walls of the compound’s L-shape, a dozen concealed windows were opened as snipers took their positions. Her battlefield was in three dimensions, the entire compound was within her reach as Zuleika lanced forward closer to the inner corner of the L. Zuleika’s aggressive response to their appearance caused the Hunters to jerk to a halt in surprise, as she immediately put them on the defensive. A single-edged sword in each hand, Zuleika wreathed the blades in telekinetic energies and herself in telekinetic armour that would deflect bullets as the men and women of the Hunters engaged her.

                A whistle of bullets and as the sound of metal striking metal or chopping against wood filled the air, snipers fell as Shawn targeted them through the chaos of the melee. In more than a few cases, his shot ended up slicing tunnels through the necks of one or two of the Hunters engaging Zuleika at close range before slamming into the forehead of an enemy sniper and dropping them. The snipers soon redirected their attention toward the forest as they noticed that their numbers were being depleted and some of them had to be replaced by new ones. The silencer and flash suppressor on Shawn’s rifle, however, made it her to pick out where he was, as did the chaos of the melee that Shawn was shooting through. Unlike the Hunter snipers, however, Shawn’s aim was being aided by the strange three-dimensional view of the battlefield that Zuleika was providing him.

                Meanwhile, the Mummy’s blade decorated grass and dirt with arcs of blood, guillotined heads and separated limbs, and corpses that had been rent in twain through the torso. As the snipers turned their attention away from her, Zuleika’s telekinetic armour switched from protecting her from the piercing impact of bullets to guarding against the slicing and crushing impact of swords, and rods of metal or wood. When they sought to flank and encircle, she leapt powerfully into the air, catapulting herself telekinetically over them in a graceful somersault. Even as her form passed overhead, she clove one man from his right shoulder down to his gallbladder in a fatal strike before coming down in a whirling crouch at the outside of the mass. Even her landing was an example of lethal grace and skill, beheading two men, rending two more in twain through their torso and separating the legs of two more from their hips just low enough that the dismemberment wasn’t also a castration.

                _Go now,_ shot the telepathic command from Zuleika to the Revenants.

                Instantly, the two men nodded to each other, and without so much as a shimmer, their bodies faded completely into invisibility. They drew their weapons and raced toward the compound’s other exterior door, slipping inside their targeted structure, and slicing the throats of a quartet of Hunters in those rooms to prevent them sounding an alarm at an entrance being breached. Even as they slid into the deeper compound, waiting until their three-dimensional map of the interior showed them there would be no one to see the door open and then shut, the battle outside filled their ears. It grated on the Spartan a bit, but Aristos knew more lives depended on the success of this than a Spartan’s desire for blood and glory could validate risking. Together, the two men descended into the compound, stealthily passing through additional doors when they knew the opening and closing of those doors would not draw attention. Soon, they reached the compound’s security centre, once more slipping inside in a rush, knives whipping out across the distance to slam into the heads of two Hunter watchmen before they knew what was happening. Even as Aristos sliced the throats of two more with long-bladed knives, two additional throwing knives slammed into the skulls of the last two watchmen, before any of them could raise an alarm.

                The security centre silenced, Aristos nodded to Marcel, and they quickly proceeded down four more flights of stairs, another hundred feet into the earth. Down a further six hundred feet of corridors, they crept toward the central supercomputer of the compound, assassinating another six Hunters as they entered. Immediately, Marcel placed four charges he could detonate remotely, and then connected his headset to one worn by Edmund, plugging something into the transceiver Edmund sent with him.

                “Six minutes,” Edmund whispered through the connection, directly into the ears of both Marcel and Aristos, and the two men nodded. As the dozen monitors in the room flickered through a vast host of information while Edmund searched their mainframe, Marcel and Aristos hurriedly dragged the corpses of the dead Hunters. They pulled them to positions where if the door opened, the dead men wouldn’t be immediately visible, then slipped back into invisibility, as the three-dimensional map from Zuleika warned them of the approach of two men. When the door opened, invisible blades cut across the Hunters’ throats in the breadth of a heartbeat, and even as the men fell dead, Aristos quickly and quietly shut the door to secure the room for the short time they still required.

                “Got it,” Edmund whispered, “Flip the switch on the side of the device, now.” Marcel crossed the room and clicked the switch, activating a preprogrammed sequence of commands to format the hard-drive. Even if some part of their supercomputer survived the explosion coming in the near future, it would nevertheless be useless for the Hunters.

                _Get out of there now,_ Zuleika instructed, _this needs to be cut short, my energies are running low. Plant your explosives and extract, with all possible haste, if you please._ In answer, Marcel drew out cylindrical grenades that had an adhesive quality on the underside, smacking them down on the wall as he rushed past, each one separated by about fifty feet. As he ran out, Aristos picked up where he had left off as they rushed up a stairwell, then out through another door as the chain of grenades behind them started to explode. A wake of fire and short-range ground tremors rattled the compound; alarms went off, and entire sections of the compound collapsed where grenades had detonated. A well-designed compound architecturally speaking, the collapses wouldn’t actually cause any Hunters to be trapped behind walls of rubble where they might suffocate or die of dehydration, but it did cause a massive spike of panic and chaos in the compound. Soldiers outside broke off and rushed back into the compound in time to see the two Revenants rush out the other visible exterior door.

                Even as the soldiers rushed to fire at them, they were caught in the explosive bursts of the last of the grenades. Then, the entire compound shuddered so violently that any Hunters still asleep with jarred awake by being physically thrown from their beds, as Marcel activated the detonators on the bombs in their mainframe.

                Edmund had the information required, and as the explosions distracted the Hunters for that critical instant, Zuleika sheathed her swords. She soared to Shawn, dropping down, racing back to where Helle and Akoko waited for them in one of the pack’s two intimidating, angular black sport-utility trucks. A vehicle whose design schematics were based visually on the _Knight XV_ vehicle by Conquest Vehicles, these were even more heavily armoured and equipped with combat countermeasures, besides, making them quick-moving tanks.

                Shawn and Zuleika quickly got in the side doors, as Marcel and Aristos circled around to the vehicle, opening the back door and slipping into their seats in the back. Seatbelts buckled in their rear-facing seats, Helle put the vehicle in drive and slipped away into the night, leaving a badly battered compound and a few hundred dead Hunters in wake of their attack. They made a direct path back to the wolf-den, to review the information Edmund had attained.

                Even as they were en route back, Edmund transmitted messages to each of the members of their six-person squad of cybernetics and biosynthetics. At his alpha’s command, he communicated instructions for them to report to the Masquerade’s nearest safehouse armoury, and when to do so.

  

* * *

 

 

                The safehouse armoury was a large studio apartment in north Birmingham’s ‘Evergreen’ area, within walking distance of both Village Creek and Route 65. Their host proved to be a Franco-German Lynx named Lewis Hoellen, and as Marcus stepped in, he found himself last to arrive. Lewis had the appearance of a twenty-four-year-old, light-skinned with ear-length true-black hair and irises of pale silver, standing five foot six inches and a hundred fifty-five pounds.

                “Welcome to the Evergreen armoury,” Lewis said as Marcus stepped in, “the rest of your team’s already here checking their electronics and reviewing weapons options.” Marcus nodded, discovering that Constantine seemed to be planning to go with pure hand-to-hand, while Bella and Edgar had each picked a Gerber Mark II combat knife. He had to admit, if he still needed weapons in close-quarters combat, he would’ve probably favoured the weapon, himself.

                “Hey, Marcus, everything okay, at home?” asked Matthew, noting Marcus’ late arrival as Marcus walked to join them, sitting down.

                “Oh, yeah, just needed to explain to my boyfriend that I was going to be away for about a day or maybe two,” Marcus replied, “Kale was bummed, but he understands the importance of our work.”

                “Yeah, Dana felt the same way,” Kelly said, referring to her girlfriend, “she was looking forward to a nice, kinky morning, but when I told her this was connected to the orphanage burnings, Dana insisted I get my ass here on time and do whatever’s necessary. She told me she didn’t care… well, she didn’t say it that nicely… that the kids that were burned to death were zombies, kids are kids and deserve to be protected.”

                “Glad to hear she’s got a good heart,” Matthew nodded, “I told my Captain I needed two days off; that I had something I needed to take care of. Captain Harker’s a smart man, he immediately asked if this had something to do with the orphanage burnings, then told me to take as long as I need and he’ll give me his own holiday pay. He doesn’t know the kids are zombies, but he’s the sort that wouldn’t care: he’s got a hard heart, but a massive soft spot for kids.”

                As they were talking, Edgar was checking Kelly’s cybernetics, and then as Matthew spoke, he moved to run a basic check on Marcus’ wide array of cybernetics.

                “So, Edgar, how do I look?”

                “Gorgeous, as always. Stay still,” Edgar teased as he glanced up from running the diagnostics on the former Marine’s cybernetic legs, soliciting a faint blush from Marcus.

                “Why are you so comfortable talking like that, anyway? I thought you only liked women,” Marcus answered.

                “Huh? Oh,” Edgar replied, rolling his shoulders a bit in response, “I was born in San Francisco, my biological mother put me up for adoption. I was raised with two dads, it was a little confusing for a couple years because I’d say ‘Dad!’ and they’d both answer; then when I was nine, we decided Mickey would be Dad and Donnie would be Pops.”

                “You must have heard a lot of stuff growing up,” Marcus observed.

                “Ah, no different than any kid hears from their parents, you know?” replied Edgar as he raised onto his knees and moved the diagnostic tool to one of Marcus’ arms, “Actually, I heard worse from other kids’ parents when I stayed over their houses. Some kids, I stopped hanging around them because, you know, their parents made comments about my fathers, and they never did anything to deserve it. They took me to the amusement park every weekend for as long as the parks were open each year, we rode every single rollercoaster in town, straight up to my eighteenth birthday. I felt a little bad, you know, moving cross-country for my education, but I got a good scholarship here in Birmingham. Pops and Dad are very proud, even though they miss me; I was thinking about going back home to San Francisco, at some point, but, now I have responsibilities here.”

                “It sounds like you had phenomenal parents,” Marcus said with a nod, “Hope someday I’ll be as good a dad, if Kale and I can get approved for an adoption.”

                “I’ll bet you will, Marcus,” Edgar said with a warm smile, looking up at him as he slowly rose to stand up, running the diagnostic on the former Marine’s cybernetic ears and eyes, “Your cybernetics are holding up excellently. The circuitry is responding exactly as desired, internal diagnostics are reporting in properly. You may want an injection for the next-generation cranial cybernetics, but your neurophysiology continues to be receptive.”

                “So Constantine, what led to you getting involved in the Masquerade?” asked Kelly, inquisitively, as she got a simple chicken wrap from the armoury’s refrigerator.

                “Had this boy come into my instruction class, Dean Morris, showed me some bruises he had, and then made me promise I wouldn’t involve the police, just help him out. He was fourteen years old and gay, had a mean-spirited, homophobic father, who had found out and had started attempting to beat it out of him. So I taught him to fight, taught him how to defend himself against a male attacker, how to fight in general but especially against a male attacker that was larger and stronger. A couple years later, he fought back against his father’s abuse, broke the son of a bitch’s arm, nose, and jaw, and his father threw him out but refused to press charges. He didn’t want it coming out that he was the father of a gay boy, or that he’d gotten his ass kicked by a gay sixteen-year-old boy,” Constantine answered at length, “I took him in immediately, of course, because, how could I not? He was my best and favourite student, sweetest boy I had ever had in my class or had encountered at all for that matter, by the time he was eighteen, I had the money for my centre. Dean came home, one day, with this man named Thomas Vilfort, some blood on his shoulder.”

                “I was a bit confused, but they explained to me that Thomas was a member of Clan Lynca and Dean had been scouted and recruited by the Lynx Clan,” Constantine went on, “I’ll be honest, I thought Thomas was pulling one over on him. I figured he was just some weird dude with a vampire fetish, that he just liked the taste of blood, until he went ahead and proved it, transforming to show me he was genuine. Thomas told me he was about fifty years old, that he’d intentionally waited until he reached adulthood as a Lynx before seeking someone to bite, himself.”

                “A few minutes later, there was a gunshot, the sound of one of my windows shattering, and a small explosion; a Hunter assassinated Thomas with an exploding round that hit him in the neck, then shot Dean,” the biosynthetic then continued, “About an hour later, a handful of witches and warlocks approached me, to investigate those assassinations. I told them I wanted in. I didn’t know Thomas from Chuck or Adam, but Dean, new kitten in the Clan? He was like a little brother to me, and I don’t take well to my kin being killed. I told them I wanted to do more than just be a regular informer, I wanted to help them in the fight against the people that had violated the sanctuary I promised that boy and took away one of my best friends. I took no pleasure in that man’s death, but I made damn sure that sniper never shot anyone else’s loved ones, ever again.”

                “How about you, Bella?” asked Marcus, looking over at her, “You have anything to share with the group? I know you’re pretty secretive, but I think we’d all love to get to know you a bit better.”

                “Sure,” Bella laughed with good humour, “I suppose it’s only fair. You could say that calling myself retired is a generous embellishment; when things went sideways in North Korea, they released an official burn notice on me, as part of the claim my team went rogue. Team might be an overstatement, it was three of us and I was the only one that was still alive when I managed to cross paths with the witches and warlocks from Tisayacu. The burn notice itself was short-lived, because the covens used their influence to get it quietly cancelled, since ironically when you have a burn notice put out on you, the government ices your ass.”

                “Well, that sort of put a crimp on my ability to help the Masquerade, so they doused the fire and thawed the ice,” continued Bella, “It forced me to search out alternative income. I opened a private investigations company and I started to work as a dominatrix, and I hired a secretary with a bit of my remaining savings.”

                “You’re a private investigator?” asked Matthew, politely saying nothing on the other part.

                “Yeah, but I don’t do criminal investigations,” she replied, and he nodded.

                “That’d explain why we’ve never professionally crossed paths,” Matthew observed, to which Bella nodded back to him.

                “That’s intentional, no offense. I try to avoid criminal investigations unless the person who comes to me has a dire, compelling situation. When I take one on, it’s because the police have dismissed the victim complaint or have told them that the behaviour is not criminal. In that situation,” Bella replied, “I take the investigation and if the police are unwilling to take the needed action, I turn in my findings to the Masquerade. The police have failed my clients or worse yet refused to help, but the Masquerade’s never backed down from bringing… appropriate resolutions. I promise my clients peace from whatever criminal behaviour is troubling them, and through our immortal allies, I have never let them down.” It was rather clear that a few of the unsolved murders in Birmingham were probably bastards who’d been killed by immortals for deplorable behaviour. Matthew would have preferred those bastards be convicted and go to prison, but in the absence of the law making that an option, he couldn’t deny that their victims deserved their peace.

                Their conversation went on into the night, on a number of topics, though turning inevitably to curiosity about how they would be teamed up and where they would be sent on the mysterious upcoming mission.


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story of the omega, Josh Colcord, and his alpha, Henri Barre, as their pack confronts the multitudes of the Necropolis Corps, the Hunter's Soldiery's slayers of the undead.

                Following breakfast on July fifth, the pack and their undead allies assembled in the wolf-den’s great central hall to review he data that had been gathered by the assault on the Hunter compound. Doubtless the Hunters were still reeling from the attack within the last several hours, but this was no time for holding back and being satisfied by only a minor victory.

                “All right, Edmund, what do we have,” Josh asked, as Edmund walked up a set of stairs into the central hall, a manila folder in-hand. Meanwhile, Lyle activated the videoconference screen with the armoury where their human allies were waiting for their own instructions.

                “There are ten Hunter sections in the field, each assigned sixteen individuals including a Hunter sergeant that has command authority. Each section is assigned to target a zombie residence that has been discovered and confirmed,” answered Edmund, as he laid out the various images needed. Maps, photographs, mission orders, names and addresses, everything each sixteen-man unit would need to track down and eliminate their one single undead target.

                “Due to a need for secrecy, the Hunter sections have been ordered to use short-range weapons to minimize a risk of harm to living humans. Their armoury requisitions reports indicate the Hunters are favouring a combination of kukris, hanbo rods, and three sections having two soldiers with short-range flamethrowers attacking suburban targets,” Edmund continued, “Their targets are spread out around the outskirts and downtown. A lot of their targets are in closed quarters and confined spaces, which is good for us.”

                “What are our orders, alpha?” asked Helle, looking toward her alpha deferentially.

                “Shawn, Zuleika, I want you to go protect the home of Antonia Montenarello; Aristos, Marcel, go safeguard Andre Nozic. Marcus, Edgar, I want you two at Vanessa Norcross’ condominium; Bella, Matthew, protect Aldrich Fesenmeier,” Henri began, narrowing his eyes as he looked over the map, “Kelly, Constantine, ensure nothing happens to Rebecca Aramada, that building has a large lobby so try to keep them from getting above the first floor at all. Matthew, put in a call to that apartment building, warn them to clear the lobby tomorrow night and keep it as clear and empty as possible to minimize risk of collateral. Helle and I will protect the home of Gregor Zymslowski, down in the Vestavia Hills area. Alexander, William, make sure nothing happens to Francis Xiques; Akoko and Hildegarde, protect Kastor Yeatropoulos out in the Irondale area. Edmund, send correspondence to the suburbanites Wilhelmina Kibedeaux and David Janssen; tell Wilhelmina to host a costume party and invite lots of the humans in her area, and tell David to attend. The Hunters won’t risk human casualties.”

                “On it, alpha,” Edmund replied, quickly hurrying from the room and down the stairs once more, to send the messages to all of the imperiled zombies to let them know help was on the way, or how to neutralize the Hunter threat.

                The day proceeded quietly, and the sixth was mostly quiet as well, as wolves and undead moved around the den, making their preparations while the den-protectors kept the den clean. As the teams took to the field, leaving the wolf-den well defended, Edmund watched the perimeter through the network of cameras. Meanwhile, Josh relaxed a bit on one of the couches of the central hall, until the sound of Lyle’s footsteps ascending the staircase got his attention, and he turned his eyes toward him.

                “Hey, omega,” Lyle greeted, with a warm nod for Cass and Valentin, “May I have some time with you?”

                “Of course,” Josh replied, standing and walking to him, slipping fingers into his hands and walking down the stairs with him, leading his sable-maned pack-member back downstairs. Lyle slipped ahead to open the door into the room he shared with Edmund, which now had only one bed, proof the boys had started sleeping together now, just as Josh suspected based on what they had said. The black-haired, boyish wolf wasted no time in slipping his clothes off, and the eternal eighteen-year-old allowed himself to shed his own just as promptly. Once he was stripped down, Lyle took his hands and pulled him gently to the best, swiveling their position until Josh felt the edge of the bed against the back of his thighs. Lyle pushed gently, pushing him onto his back on the edge of the bed, and as Josh went down onto the bed, Lyle followed, feet remaining on the floor as he pressed bodily to his omega. His lips found his omega’s, and he kissed him passionately, sliding his tongue inside Josh’s mouth as he started to move his hips, slowly, gently sliding his cock across the wolf-bitch’s shaft.

                As Lyle rolled his hips, he pushed Josh’s body slowly more and more onto the bed, crawling onto the bed on top of him to continue kissing him. His cock slid alongside his omega’s phallic rod, as one hand slid down, in between them, fingers gently stroking both shafts simultaneously, though not gripping either. As Lyle continued their kissing, Edmund stepped into the still-open door, shedding his clothes before moving to the other side of the bed as their legs, reaching down to slip fingers into Josh’s hair. When Lyle broke the kiss, Edmund tightened his fingers, pulling Josh across the bed by strands of short, dark brown hair, soliciting a soft whimper of masochistic pleasure until that cock slid into his mouth and silenced them. As his form slid across the bed, Lyle steadied himself with hands on either side, mouth opening, taking Josh’s cock smoothly into it as his hips neared the black-haired boy’s mouth. He started sucking immediately, bobbing his head as he switched his position a bit, lying stomach-down on the bed with his legs bent at the knees, perpendicular to his omega, bobbing his head slowly, gently on his shaft.

                Even as Lyle began to suck their omega, Edmund began to ride that mouth slowly, firmly, driving to the hilt with those silky lips caressing his shaft just as Lyle’s were caressing their omega’s length. Each moaned on the cock in his mouth as they sucked, Lyle’s hair swaying with the motion as Edmund’s hips rocked, the redhead’s soft moans the only ones truly audible through the open door. Josh’s moans were as much moans of pleasure as desire, the air full of pheromones of lust, arousal, affection, and he could feel shimmers of admiration, attraction, and reverence, radiating from both of them. He sucked hard, silken curve of his lips caressing the shaft of Edmund’s cock as it slid deeply into his mouth and down his throat, even as Lyle made a point to take Josh’s length to the hilt, as well. Lyle’s fingers slid up his sides, caressing from his thighs to just below his arms, before curling to scratch ever-so-lightly down from his upper torso all the way to his hips. To this Edmund added similar sensuous scratches, drawing his fingernails up from Joshua’s waistline, past his navel and all the way to his shoulders, curving around his nipples considerately.

                The eternal eighteen-year-old’s back arched, his moans deepened under the delicate, faint scratches and the feeling of a cock sliding down his throat while his own was swallowed to the hilt. The youthful omega groaned loudly, around Edmund’s cock, as Lyle continued to suck hard, head rising and falling rapidly on that cock, and he felt himself nearing release at the same time as he felt the redhead’s prick starting to pulse in his throat. He continued rolling his hips gently, lovingly, against his omega’s mouth, pushing it to the hilt one last time as he felt his seed surge down the length of his rod and flow into the brunette’s throat. A few short seconds later, Josh’s seed was similarly surging into Lyle’s throat, even before Edmund finished unloading into the brunette’s throat. Lyle sucked harder still, drawing out the last of his omega’s release before rising off it, and sitting up to lick his lips as Edmund laid down on top of their omega, wrapping his own lips around Josh’s cock immediately. Josh groaned softly in pleasure as Edmund slid himself out of that mouth, and slapped Edmund’s ass firmly, soliciting a faint moan from his redheaded pack-member.

                “Edmund, let’s change positions,” Josh said, and Edmund moved immediately, “You get on the floor and get on your knees.” Unhesitating, Edmund soon knelt at the side of the bed, as Josh pulled himself over, relaxing his back against a pillow with one foot on the floor and the other on the bed. His hips near the edge, Edmund was able to easily lean forward and begin sucking his cock, bobbing his head on it happily, as Lyle moved up to where Josh was. Rising onto a knee on one side and his foot on the edge of the bedframe sideboard on the other, his left knee a little bit above Edmund’s head, Lyle gripped the headboard as he looked down at his omega. Josh slid one hand up his thigh, until he could slip his fingers around his prick and angle it down to his mouth, taking it in his mouth and starting to suck on it. Lyle started to roll his hips slowly while Edmund continued to move his head in slow, sensuous movements, caressing every inch of Josh’s prick with the gradual sliding of his lips.

                Josh sucked hard, moaning gently as Lyle slowly, gradually pumped his thick, nine-inch phallus through the brunette’s firm lips. He groaned in pleasure over his omega, sliding one hand down from the headboard to caress the short, dark brown strands of his omega’s hair, and the scalp beneath.

                “Oh, fuck… you are an amazing bitch, omega,” Lyle praised, hand sliding down to run his thumb lovingly across Josh’s cheek, as Edmund’s red hair swayed slowly with his bobbing movements. Edmund was slowly picking up the pace for Josh’s pleasure, even as Lyle continued to roll his hips agonizingly slowly, savouring the slow building of pleasure in his balls. Josh smiled a bit around that phallic muscle, moaning gently on it in appreciation for the praise his dark-haired pack-member offered him. He could tell that Edmund was building his omega toward release quicker than Josh’s mouth was bringing Lyle to his own first release of the night. When Josh started to pulse gently within the redhead’s mouth, Edmund moaned softly on it as he hastened his pace further still. Lyle slid his hips back, pulling his cock from Josh’s mouth and rubbing his moistened rod against one cheek, as his omega’s spine arched and he moaned softly in pleasure, before releasing a stream of thick, lupine cream into the redhead’s mouth. Edmund’s head sank all the way to the hilt as Josh’s seed pulsed into his throat, easily taking the entire length and sucking hard, swallowing a bit around it to offer further encouragement.

                “Good grief, that feels phenomenal,” Josh breathed against Lyle’s cock, licking it enthusiastically as Lyle’s hips brushed the length across his cheek, and Lyle smiled at him, “You need your release, though. How do we get it?”

                “I want to make out with you while you ride both our cocks at the same time, bitch,” Lyle answered readily, pulling back and sinking down to kiss those lips hard, radiating a continuous sensation of love and filling the air with pheromones of the same accompanied by lust and arousal.

                “That… sounds fun…” the eternal eighteen-year-old replied, as he felt Edmund’s lips sliding up off his cock, and felt the added weight on the bed as Edmund climbed onto it as well. Soon, Lyle broke from the kiss and looked at Edmund beside him, and the redhead leaned in, kissing him passionately as well, as Lyle moved into a position where his cock would be directly pressed against Edmund’s rod. Josh leaned down, kissing one cock and then the other, and looked up at them as he started to lick their shafts together, until he felt Edmund’s hand in his hair. When Edmund’s grip offered a little pressure, Josh took both cocks in his mouth at the same time, sucking hard as their steel-hard rods pinned his tongue between them. He could only move his head up and down to stroke them with his lips and tongue, with the latter immobilized, but he sucked enthusiastically hard.

                “Fuck, that’s amazing,” Lyle gasped as he felt those beautiful lips caressing his cock, felt the firm presence of Edmund’s alongside his own, and reveled in the near-forgotten pleasure of the sensation. Lyle’s fingers slipped into his hair, joining Edmund’s, and pushed Josh’s head a little bit more forcefully, a little more urgently, as Josh bobbed his head faster and harder. The eternal eighteen-year-old arched his body, raising his torso until he felt Edmund’s other hand on his hips, pulling or perhaps pushing him up until his head was the lowest part of his body other than his hands. He positioned his hands on one of Lyle’s thighs and one of Edmund’s as the redhead twisted his body so that his knees could rest on the headboard, to either side of Edmund’s head. The redhead smiled as he looked at Josh’s cock and nuts in front of him, Josh could smell and sense his admiration of his omega’s slim and handsome form, as his other hand moved to cup his omega’s ass. Josh strained the muscles of his arms as he lowered himself on those cocks, all the way until he could feel his throat stretching around the plush head of Lyle’s cock. Lyle bucked hard, hard enough it forced his cock another inch deep into that throat and pushed the entire velvety head of Edmund’s into that throat, as well, as he came hard.

                “Oh, my,” Lyle gasped in pleasure, fingers tightening in Josh’s hair with a feeling of astonishment radiating from him at the sensation, his cum surging up into Josh’s swallowing throat. When he finally finished he quickly drew Josh’s lips off their cocks, lifting him with both hands on his omega’s chest to let him slide his hips down until his ass hovered over two thick shafts of phallic muscle. Edmund’s hand slid down between the three of them, grasping at the bases of each cock and holding them steady as Lyle lowered their omega to it. As the tips reached his entrance together, Josh’s body had already started the process of self-lubrication, and Lyle lowered him onto their rods slowly, carefully, eyes locked on his omega’s lovely green irises.

                “Are you okay?”

                “Mm! Yes, I’ve never had two at the same time in my ass, but I’m fine, I’m fine,” Josh replied, leaning in to press his lips against Lyle’s own. Kissing him passionately, he groaned in arousal as both cocks brushed alongside his prostate and pleasure rippled through him, and smiled as he felt Edmund’s hands sliding around his lower torso. Those hands caressed his skin, scratching just hard enough to be felt, but not enough to redden the skin even slightly because of it as Josh’s rump settled as far down as it would go. There was about an inch that Lyle wouldn’t get in that ass with Edmund’s slightly shorter prick buried hilt-deep, but it hardly mattered when Josh took over the movement and lifted himself back to their plush tips before sinking back down on them.

                “Wow,” breathed Josh against Lyle’s ear, whispering in lustful arousal as he put his hands on Lyle’s shoulders just as Lyle’s were wrapped around him and then latched on his own from behind. His hips started to move, rising up slowly before grinding his way back down two shafts pressing against one another, though his own cock was beginning to be painfully hard despite having cum twice already.

                “Holy damn this feels amazing,” Josh gasped as he pulled his mouth back from Lyle’s lips, looking into his eyes as he rose and lowered against their cocks as his own ached for attention.

                “Hold it for me, omega,” Lyle whispered as he broke yet another kiss, looking up into beautiful verdant irises, “hold it for me, I want it, please.” Josh nodded and restrained himself from releasing rampantly, though he could feel himself growing increasingly aroused as he continued to rise and fall on their joined cocks.

                “How long do you need?” came the responding question.

                “Not more than two minutes,” Lyle blushed as red as Edmund’s hair in answer, and Josh nodded, riding those cocks harder and faster with every stroke, his own need building. He groaned in pleasure, softly at first, until Lyle’s head tilted, his hair swayed to the side and his neck was revealed, eyes meeting Josh’s with a deferential submission glittering in lime green rings. Josh needed no further invitation, leaning in and opening his mouth, biting down against that shoulder and growling, indeed nearly snarling with lust and arousal. Lyle whimpered softly in carnal arousal, as Josh’s teeth clamped down, though not hard enough to draw blood, arching and bucking violently against Josh’s hips as the brunette rode both of them. Josh’s growl faded as he felt one cock and then the other starting to pulse, from the current position he couldn’t really tell whose it was, but his teeth released their bite as he arched firmly in their shared hands. He growled as their seed pulsed up inside of him, as their hands held him and embraced him, as his heart raced and his nostrils filled with pheromones of love, lust, and the distinctive smell of sex.

                Lyle was the first to pull out, dragging his hips out until his cock came free of Josh’s ass, soon brushing over Edmund’s nuts for a moment. Then, his hips swayed back as he quickly laid down on his stomach and brought his lips down fast, wrapping them around his omega’s cock once more. Almost before he could even get to the hilt, it pulsed violently in his mouth, fingers tangled in his hair and pushed him down, and he swallowed around that cock as Josh’s nuts was rammed into his mouth. Cum splattered down his throat for several seconds before Josh’s muscles relaxed, Lyle’s head slid up the pulsing phallic sceptre until the last quarter of his omega’s released pulsed into his mouth. His fingers caressed gently, carefully, up that length, drawing the last drops out to the tip where he licked it off using the tip of his tongue, savouring the taste of his release. His eyes closed, pulses of empathic admiration and affection rolling out of the black-haired wolf as pheromones of Lyle’s elation and satisfaction filled his nostrils. He’d never realized it before, but it seemed their needs included servicing their omega as much as being serviced by the pack’s bitch.

                “Thank you, omega,” Lyle breathed the words against his prick as he lifted off it, looking up at his brunette omega deferentially. Josh blushed but smiled, tousling his hair lovingly, rewarded by a blindingly dazzling smile from the black-haired wolf in answer.

                “You really like sating me, too, huh?” asked Josh, and Lyle nodded rapidly as Edmund vocalized.

                “Yes, omega, we love you,” Edmund assured him, before pressing his lips firmly to the back of Josh’s neck, nuzzling him firmly, adoringly, “You’re an excellent leader, you’re sweet and beautiful, not to mention that you are the most amazing bitch we’ve ever been with.” Lyle nodded emphatically to every word, assuring Josh above him that he felt the same, before he started to lick and kiss Josh’s prick lovingly.

                “I just had a fabulous idea,” Edmund whispered into Josh’s ear, “How about you let us show you how much we love you, omega?”

                “I think I could handle that,” Josh replied warmly, as Edmund slipped out of his ass and allowed their omega to lay down on their bed.

                For the next hour and a half, the brunette’s body was their playground, as Edmund and Lyle licked, kissed, and caressed, every inch of him so thoroughly that his entire body felt soothed.

  

* * *

 

 

                When Kelly and Constantine walked in, they were greeted immediately by the building manager, who looked uncomfortable and nervous to say the least.

                “Clear the lobby! Everyone out!” the building manager said, hurriedly ushering her staff out of the room and following them behind a heavy door, and Kelly nodded to her to let her know they would let them know when it was safe to come out. It would probably be obvious, but as Constantine stretched his muscles, there was a strong possibility it was going to become a little bit messy.

                Kelly drew the knife she had brought for her organic hand, the same Gerber Mark II type chosen by both of her two biosynthetic colleagues that’d chosen to carry weapons. Constantine felt confident that he wouldn’t need one, but even with her cybernetic arm, Kelly preferred the added comfort of a knife. When the doors opened next, sixteen people in black tactical gear swarmed in through them, drawing up short into a quick block formation six wide, two rows deep with four of them in a third row. One of them pulled out a device that clicked, beeped, and whirred, for a few long seconds.

                “Human confirmed, commander,” one said to another.

                “Stand aside and you will not be harmed, we will forget we saw you,” said the other.

                “Afraid I cannot do that. You’re here to murder a woman,” Constantine replied, “That is uncool with me.”

                “Leave now, and you leave with your lives,” Kelly counter-offered, spinning the knife quickly in one hand, so that the blade protruded from the underside of her fist, near her little finger.

                “We don’t have time for this. Subdue them,” the commander ordered, and the Hunters surged forward at the two of them, separated from each other by about ten feet.

                As the first man neared and took a swing at her, Kelly’s cybernetic arm rose to block, swiveling rapidly and trapping his upper and lower arm. A sharp snap of her cybernetics, a metallic whir, and the man screamed in pain, as her cybernetic arm snapped the bones of his upper and lower arms cleanly before fingers clamped down on his throat. A tilt of her head, her left leg rose behind her, slamming into the jaw of a man who tried to circle around behind her, the massive three thousand pound force of her impact shattering his jaw and snapping his neck instantly. Kelly twisted, yanking the first man with her as cybernetic fingers closed in a fatal vice that crushed his throat until his spine snapped in several places in front of her fingers. As a third man flung a knife at her, her cybernetic left leg snapped and Kelly’s form rotated up into the air in a somersault, coming down in front of the man with a deadly elbow-drop that shattered the skull under two thousand pounds of force. Even as he fell, she whirled counterclockwise, right arm extending and startling two more men with a slice across the throat as they tried to near her.

                At the same moment, men closed on Constantine as well. He made a preemptive lunge toward the nearest of them, one hand snapping out like a striking serpent uncoiling from a threat posture. The second knuckles of his right hand swept through the air and slammed into the man’s throat, a ripple of kinetic force snapping his neck by shattering one of the vertebrae. Even as that man dropped, Constantine whirled, delivering a steel-toed kick to the side of another man’s neck with a similarly lethal impact. As the whirl swept to a halt, his form rose in a deadly arc as he caught his third attacker with an uppercut that knocked him twelve inches off the ground, where both of Constantine’s fists then slammed into his sternum. The man was flung backward with a fractured jaw and a cracked sternum, sliding across the stone tile and not moving again as Constantine’s attention shifted to a fourth. His skin shimmered with electronic markings of moonstone blue as he dodged a knife-thrust toward his torso and wheeled to slam his fist into the man’s left jawline so hard that when his head twisted to the side, it broke his neck. Constantine leapt back from a downward slash from a knife, and followed with a reverse somersault that slammed his heel into the man’s jaw, killing him with the same broken neck that Constantine was favouring.

                Meanwhile, Kelly’s cybernetic leg whirred as she rotated on her organic leg to slam a heel into a sixth of her attackers, shattering his sternum and instantly stopping his heart. As her cybernetic leg came down, she twisted around, sweeping her knife-blade across the throat of a seventh man before flinging it sixty-eight feet across the room to slam into the throat of the man with the little electronic device. She turned as Constantine somersaulted backward and flung another man to the ground with a fatal kick, and then blocked a sixth man’s attack with one arm before bringing his palm up into the nose. The man’s body went limp and fell to the ground as the bridge of his nose was rammed up into his brain fatally.

                Constantine turned his attention immediately toward the seventh of his attackers, spinning around him before grabbing his skull from behind and applying a brutal, lethal twist. Then, Constantine burst into motion toward Kelly, extending one hand to her as he neared, jumping off the ground as her cybernetic hand caught his own biosynthetically enhanced one. Kelly rotated on her cybernetic leg, right leg rising as a counterbalance as she whirled a hundred and eighty degrees before releasing Constantine’s hand with a nod. Constantine soared over the seventy-foot distance that separated them from the commander of the Hunter attack section, in a smooth arc that brought him near the ceiling of the ground floor lobby. His body rotated and rolled as he whipped through the air, coming around with a kick which came down like a hammer and slammed into the top of the man’s head. The biosynthetic kick’s impact sent a wave of kinetic force down his back, fracturing the skull and inflicting severe brain trauma, as well as snapping every bone in his spine and cracking the hipbone. Constantine bounded from the impact with a final forward somersault, landing on the ground ten feet past the Hunter officer in a braced crouch.

                “Come on, let’s let them know it’s safe and to call the police to clean this up,” Kelly said. Constantine nodded.

  

* * *

 

 

                When Henri and Helle arrived in Henri’s Aventador, it was at a two-story house with an attached garage, into which Henri pulled his vehicle through a waiting, open door, alongside a modest, silver-coloured Chevrolet Equinox. They were met at once, when the door started to close, by a salt-and-pepper-haired man that looked to be in about his late twenties, with genetics that were either fortunate or unfortunate depending on your perspective, in that he’d been greying in his twenties. Dressed in the sort of casual attire one might have expected from a construction worker or a lumberjack when they weren’t at work, simple blue jeans and a denim jacket with a white tee complimented by a pair of grey-and-white sneakers, he was a handsome figure. He stood all of six feet tall and two hundred pounds, his black hair short and sprinkled liberally with silver and white, light skin complimented by dark blue eyes that focused on the pair immediately, hand coming forward at once.

                “Thank you for coming,” he said as he shook hands with Henri, “Gregor Zymslowski. You must be Henri… and this lovely lady must be Helle. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, fair lady. It’s hard to believe the Hunters found me, I’ve been very careful, but you wouldn’t be here if you weren’t certain.” Helle nodded in response to that, shaking hands with the zombie as he acknowledged that they must have felt as if they had a good reason for coming.

                “Just remain inside, and we’ll do our best to not cause too much damage to the grounds when we engage, but one of them is bringing a flamethrower,” Henri replied, and Gregor winced faintly.

                “Damn, flamethrower. I hate fire,” replied the zombie, with a completely rational phobia of fire since he rose as a zombie and became especially vulnerable to it.

                Henri turned his head as he and Helle heard noises outside, and immediately slipped out the back door of the garage and moved around the side of the home. Discreetly enough, the Hunters had arrived in a U-Haul where it was extremely easy for them to conceal the fact they were bringing sixteen men for a military assault on a suburban home.

                Each was clothed in garments specially designed to stretch with them if they transformed while they were in the fight. As they emerged from the side of the house, the sixteen men in their tactical gear jerked abruptly to a halt at the unexpected confrontation, the pair with flamethrowers freezing in the vehicle. Henri drew his pistol and fired once, the bullet whipping between several men’s heads before hitting one of the gasoline tanks. The tank exploded instantly, and seconds later, the other one blew up as well, destroying the U-Haul and nearly incinerating the two men who had been carrying the flamethrowers.

                “Wolves!” said one of the surviving fourteen men, holding a small device that clicked, beeped, and whirred, though the range seemed extremely limited. Henri made a mental note that they would need to capture the device and learn more about it, because he couldn’t remember the last time a Hunter had known a wolf when they saw one before the wolf had even transformed. It was a potentially dangerous new advancement by the Hunters, and he knew it could revolutionize the way the Hunters engaged them.

                “Kill them!” exclaimed the unit commander, and the remaining men rushed toward the two untransformed wolves. Instantly, Helle leapt forward, her hands sweeping down across the grass as her feet came forward, before she launched from her feet and crossed a distance of a hundred feet. As her form swept through the air, it grew larger and heavier, mightier and more intimidating as she transformed, her entire body transitioning into a buff-coloured mass of thick, silky fur and taut flesh. Eight feet eleven inches in height and four hundred forty-five pounds of fur, muscle, and heavy bone, she sailed through the air near-silently.

                She slammed physically into one of the Hunters, with four two-inch claws slashing open his throat as Helle landed, torso twisted to deliver a backhanded slash with the claws of her other hand into another one’s throat. Bowling over half of those who remained, leaving only seven to continue their rush toward Henri, she rolled forward, coming to her feet with a twisting slash that rent through the bone of another man’s sternum. He fell to the ground dead, her deep slash cleaving through his lungs and his heart as well as the plate of breastbone, between the manubrium and the xiphoid process. Even as she turned to a fourth, irises of vivid hazel focusing on him as she blocked the sweep of his hanbo-style combat rod, her other hand sweeping up to rend his skull with her claws.

                Simultaneously, Henri transformed where he stood, growing to eight feet ten inches and four hundred thirty-two pounds of toned musculature, covered in skin and thick, silky fur of charcoal grey colour. Three-inch talons grew from the nails of his four fingers on each hand, though not from his thumbs, and even as the nearest man slashed with his kukri, Henri twisted sharply out of the way. His claws slashed inches-deep through the throats of two men, deeply enough to expose the spinal column to open air as they fell dead, nearly decapitated. As the rest neared him together, attempting to encircle him, he leapt into the air over one of them in a high-arc, coming down with his claws sweeping in downward arcs. Four razor-sharp, steel-hard bone talons sliced three-inch-deep furrows from their skulls down to just below their navels, spilling entrails and pints of blood on the grass in the process. Fatally sheared open, the two men crumpled to the ground dead as the remaining three spun around to face him, two with kukris that they sliced at him with, though he faded backward gracefully.

                Helle meanwhile whirled toward the last three facing her, blocking the sweeping strikes of two hanbo staves, before seizing each man by the throat. Razor-sharp talons sheared through flesh and bone as she decapitated each man, arms sweeping around in a wide loop as the third man chopped at her with his kukri, forcing her to lean her torso back. His kukri blade passed between her breasts, so close it sheared through the fabric of her top, a stretch of cloth fluttering down into the bloody grass as her arms came back around and swept forward in a rising underhand thrust. Talons soon impaled him in eight places, piercing between ribs and upward, as she lifted him off his feet, a scream of excruciating pain rising out of his nearly punctured lungs as claws cut through two ribs slowly before she flung him to the ground. He gasped for only seconds before his form went utterly still, the loss of blood becoming rapidly fatal once her claws slid out and allowed him to bleed profusely from eight jagged stab-wounds.

                As two of the Hunters lurched forward to chop at him once more with their kukris, he twisted out of the way, claws coming up in a brutal arc, cleaving through his arm just above the wrist. Even as lower arm and kukri fell to the ground spewing blood, claws of his other hand sliced through the back of the man’s neck, disconnecting his head from his body. A heartbeat later, even as he fell, Henri swept behind the other two, one hand shearing through their spines in four places, delivering a fatal cleave through flesh, muscle, and bone. As they fell dead on the grass, blood dripped from Henri’s talons, the U-Haul nearby still burning and smoldering, though it seemed no one was willing to call the fire department. Perhaps, Henri mused to himself, they looked out their windows, saw werewolves, and were unable to believe their eyes or assumed a movie crew had come in unexpectedly to film a scene from a horror film or action flick of some sort.

                Finally, as they shrank back into their human forms, Helle’s breasts exposed by the near-miss of one kukri, Gregor allowed them quickly into his home once more. Their fingers and nails looking as if they had been dipped an inch deep in blood they washed their hands quickly, Gregor’s eyes remaining politely averted from Helle’s form and focused instead on Henri.

                “Thank you again,” Gregor said to both, as Henri dried his hands before passing the towel calmly over to his half-clothed pack-member, “I am glad you were willing to come to protect me and my home.”

                “You are quite welcome. You will want to make sure you call your senator and ask him to have some cleaners sent, though, of course,” Helle replied as she dried her hands, unashamed of her bared breasts as she hung the towel over the handlebar of the nearby oven.

                “Yes, ma’am,” Gregor nodded respectfully, looking over to her, making eye contact only as he resisted his natural temptation to look lower. Her toplessness was the result of her efforts to protect him, and she neither asked for it nor invited him to ogle her, and ever the proper gentleman, his eyes remained where they belonged.

                Then, Henri and Helle bade him farewell and returned to Henri’s Aventador, where Helle pulled a spare shirt from the glove compartment and slipped into it as Henri pulled out. By 2:00 AM, everyone had returned safely home.

  

* * *

 

 

                As Josh walked into the central hall, shortly after breakfast on the eleventh of July, Henri held his arm along the couch invitingly, wrapping it around him lovingly as Josh sank down beside him. As his alpha kissed him on the nearest temple, he turned on the television and clicked through a few of the channels, stopping on a medical report on the news whose title caught his attention.

                “ _… from the AIDS Research Alliance have announced the development of a cure for the HIV/AIDS virus that has been tested and confirmed on live patients. An AIDS Research Alliance spokesperson confirmed that the cure was developed using the antibodies and blood from the descendants of survivors of the Black Plague, and will be available at hospitals and clinics by October,_ ” the reporter said for the camera, “ _Medical researchers predict a vaccine may be available by 2026._ ”

                “Not surprising that the plague survivors’ blood and antibodies were used,” Henri observed, “You know they found out that the descendants of the plague survivors are immune to HIV or AIDS?”

                “Really?” asked Josh, inquisitively.

                “Mm-hmm,” Henri replied with a soft sigh, “I was there, in the first outbreak, from 1346 to 1353. Those were some of the worst years in Europe, I think, since the time of Rome. It brought with it a horrific spike in the persecution of the innocent and unassociated: youths with acne, victims of leprosy and what we now recognize as psoriasis, people with what we now recognize as fibromyalgia, and ill-fortuned Jews.”

                “We did our best, of course, to save as many Jewish lives as we could,” Henri went on, “unfortunately, it was one of our saddest failures of the era. Many Jews died, some in the plagues, some in the persecutions that accompanied them. It was heartbreaking to see so many humans die, to see so many more die needlessly because of the panic which accompanied the first outbreak, and the successive outbreaks that followed.”

                “I was myself there for the outbreaks throughout the 1400s, thankfully they missed Jeanne d’Arc of Domrémy in all those recurrences, and throughout the 1500s and 1600s,” Cass added, zir voice somewhat mournful, “I have had to repeatedly correct certain entries on Wikipedia about the Black Plague, thankfully I kept notes, kept the references intact, and so forth.” Josh listened to his alpha and his pack-member, leaning his head against the former’s shoulder, and feeling a sort of empathic melding enveloping him.

                “My parents died when I was thirteen, in an automotive accident,” Josh said, sharing something that only his alpha had previously been aware of, “They were driving home one night, in the one luxury they had in the world, this little exotic called a Lotus Elise. Handled beautifully, like a dream really, but it was small, and it was not suited well to violent collisions, at all. Drunk driver was stuck behind a tractor-trailer, became impatient I suppose, attempted to pass the truck before veering enough to see around him. Hit my parents’ Lotus head-on at about seventy miles an hour, attempting to pass, as they were going about forty-five, respecting the speed limit as they always did. The investigator told me they died instantly, an attempt at consolation I guess; small comfort, but now, I can appreciate the sentiment. There’s no easy way to tell a thirteen-year-old that some drunk bastard perpetrated vehicular homicide against their parents, and I remember the experience with… sufficient clarity… to recognize the sympathy and the heartbreak that of his expression as he told me.” As he spoke, his words were accompanied with a dull emanation of sorrow and of a distant pain, amplifying that sensation of emotional binding he felt all about them.

                “1855, my brother and I decided to get married. Well, I mean, my _wolf-brother_ and I, a man who was bitten by the same person who bit me,” Akoko started.

                _I wonder if that makes Henri my Daddy,_ Josh mused to himself on the revelation people who were turned by the same person were considered siblings within the clan.

                “His name was Alfieri Orlandi, he was about seventy years older than me, and he was just the most gorgeous man. In 1857, we had even found a daughter. This pretty little twelve-year-old orphan girl named Briallen Pritchett,” Akoko continued with a mournful sigh, “1861, the three of us were enjoying a simple day walking in the wilderness, it was one of our babygirl’s early lunar embraces. Our outing was disrupted by Hunters, they had discovered the glade and learned it was the site of frequent wolf-juvenile transformations, so they ambushed it. A little over a thousand of them, it was, against a hundred and fifty of us; they killed dozens when they sprung their ambush, my brother and my babygirl both included, and put several silver bullets in me. We killed them all, but there were only about thirty of us that survived… we learned to choose our moon-glades more cautiously, to secure them month-round, to secure a much wider perimeter. We also learned to choose new ones, if it became obvious they knew of a site between lunar cycles.”

                “My wolf-mother, Lila, the only real mother I had ever known, really, attained her Eldership in the 1,920s,” Helle said, “she was sent on a mission on the 1,950s to eliminate an Exiled Elder from Clan Uzumati, one by the name of Bartłomiej Augustyniak. Bartłomiej had been exiled in the 1,100s when it was discovered that he had been doing a number of things that were truly horrific. He had mutilated and murdered over a thousand women, but what he’d done to over two thousand males in their late teens and early twenties was… so dramatically worse as to be unspeakable.”

                “She wasn’t sent alone; Clan Uzumati sent someone as well, another one of the Veteránoi, sent to eliminate Bartłomiej for all the crimes he committed against humanity; he arrived late. Lila dealt grievous injuries to the Exile, but he was still able to overpower her. He was too wounded to flee right away, though, and the Uzumati-kin Veterános managed to reach him before he had recovered enough to run for it. So the Uzumati-kin Veterános killed Bartłomiej and made sure my mother was the last person he would ever kill,” Helle concluded. Josh could sense the empathic radiations all around the room, even as the sound of bare feet on the stairs heralded Edmund’s ascent from below.

                “Alpha, omega, we have a new application for you to review,” he said, as he came to stop near them, holding a paper in his hand until Henri reached for it. Edmund handed it over immediately, before sitting quietly as Josh and Henri looked over the application together, the only ones on their particular couch.

 

                _Amara Senne, re: Joining Barre-Colcord Pack_

_Therian Age: 33_

_Combat Talents:_

_I have an accuracy rating of 98.71% with sniper rifle._

_I have an accuracy rating of 93.2% with single-wield handgun, 90.56% with dual-wield handgun._

_Mission Talents:_

_I am experienced in nursing and supplemental medical care._

_Domestic Talents:_

_I graduated beauty school before being turned and am an adequate hairstylist._

_Additional Notes:_

_I am an accomplished bitch, and eager to enter a pack in the role of secondary bitch._

_I am highly uncomfortable with bottoming for physical or verbal sadomasochism._

_I have received Pathfinder training, attained with the approval of the Eldership._

                “What do you think, baby?” asked Henri, looking over at Josh before kissing his temple and rubbing over his mate’s side as sensuously as he could.

                “I think she could work. I don’t see any problem, and it would be nice to add a Pathfinder to the pack,” Josh replied, and Henri nodded, extending the paper back toward Edmund.

                “File this, and inform her that we will expect her here with this month’s supply shipment,” Henri said, before offering the pack the new information, “We’ll be getting our second bitch, in a few days. Keep in mind, she does not like verbal or physical sadomasochism.” This was met without complaint or hesitation, only the nods of understanding that both the alpha and the omega knew they could expect. If she didn’t like to be called names, and preferred gentler sexual interactions, that wasn’t going to be a problem for them. Josh had already proven he could handle the roughest they could dish out, after all.

                For his part, Josh excused himself for a morning shower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, any questions, comments, courteous critiques, impressions, observations, or whatever, are absolutely welcome -- and thank you to everyone who has been reading Josh's story from the beginning. I hope that you'll continue to enjoy it!


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The continuing story of the omega, Josh Colcord, and his alpha, Henri Barre, as their pack confronts the multitude of the Necropolis Corps, the Hunter's Soldiery's slayers of the undead.

                On the morning of July sixteenth, the pack gathered in the central hall to listen to the morning’s news. The day was a beautiful Sunday by any account, meteorologically speaking, with an early sunrise heralding across a clear blue sky speckled with large cumulus clouds. As Josh slipped into a seat beside his mate on the couch or perhaps more accurately loveseat, Henri’s arm slid around him as he pulled the youthful omega onto his lap, arms sliding about him and pressing his palms to Josh’s belly and ribs. Fingers curled, nails drew across the skin and solicited a whimpering giggle of pleasure as the scratch both stung and tickled at the same time, triggering a twitching response in the muscles beneath Henri’s fingers. As they listened to the news, Henri tilted his head and leaned close, opening his mouth before clamping his teeth down on the left nape of Josh’s neck.

                The youthful omega breathed deeply as he arched in pleasure, Henri’s nails clawing firmly across his stomach to leave thin, brief red lines the sort that would fade within a few minutes. As the scene changed on the television, the alpha opened his eyes and looked up, without releasing his bite, and listened close.

                “We’re coming to you live from the Phase 3 Testing Yard of the mechanical and manufacturing engineering firm _SivMex_ , where we’ve been invited to see a demonstration of their all new lines of commercial and emergency response mechs!” said the reporter. The reporter looked like she was roughly thirty years old, with golden yellow hair, and eyes of a light, silvery shade of grey, dressed in attractive grey formalwear including a pencil skirt.

                “Did I hear you right, Anna? Did you say _mechs_?” asked the anchorman.

                “That’s right, John,” replied Anna to her journalistic coworker, “you heard right, and SivMex has promised that we here at CNN will receive an excellent, front-row demonstration of their new products. This is a CNN exclusive. We’re told that their products include mechs for use in construction yards, at freight shipping docks, in seafloor salvage and exploration efforts, and in emergency response concerns. Oh, here he comes.”

                “Here who comes, Anna?”

                “SivMex spokeswoman Marla Hammond,” Anna replied, “Hello, Marla! Thank you for inviting us to your demonstration today. I see large containment crates being rolled out now, I assume the mechs are in those, but I wonder if you might be willing to answer a few questions for me while we wait for the demonstration?”

                “Of course, Anna,” replied the spokeswoman, a black-haired woman with pale, apricot-coloured skin with a fine figure and grey irises, who looked to be about twenty-seven, “Here at SivMex, we believe that people matter, and that is why we decided to produce civilian mechs to help make life safer and easier for citizens everywhere.”

                “Wow, Marla, your company sounds very progressive. Can you tell us, what are your mechs called?”

                “Well, Anna, as you know we do have a few of them. We have the Freight Transfer Mech _Titan_ , the Rescue Mechs _Angel_ , _Goliath_ , and _Aquaria_ , the Exploration Mech _Leviathan_ , and the Constructor Mechs _Colossus_ and _Hulk_ ,” answered the SivMex spokeswoman, “Our largest mech is the _Titan_ mech, though the _Colossus_ mechs are nearly as large. Our smallest mechs are the _Angel_ and _Aquaria_ models, whose purpose requires them to be of a smaller scale. I don’t want to ruin anything for you, though, because I think you will be really impressed with this demonstration. We here at SivMex have been amazed by the performance, brilliance, and inventiveness of all of our manufacturing and mechanical engineers.”

                “Well there you have it, folks! It sounds like this demonstration is going to be a real game changer. Since the advent of the first mechs a few years ago, I think we’ve all been wondering, who’s going to truly tap into this potential market on a commercial scale, and today, maybe we have our answer!” concluded the reporter, as the segment took a brief interruption to go to a commercial break.

                “SivMex is ours,” Henri said as soon as he released his bite on Josh’s shoulder, leaving a deep indentation of his dentition marking his mate’s shoulder, rubbing it until it was dry and then kissing it, “They’ve been working on it ever since that full-contact mega-mech competition between the United States and Japan in 2016. Stein’s been helping them with it, you could even say spearheading the project.”

                “Stein?” asked Josh, unfamiliar with the name.

                “ _Francis Nathaniel Stein_ , one of our greatest scientific minds, a brilliant researcher and inventor. We would have liked to have gotten such minds as Edison, Tesla, da Vinci, but they were unwilling to abandon their mortality,” Henri answered. Josh paused only a few seconds before he turned his head to look at his alpha questioningly.

                “… did you seriously just tell me _Frankenstein_ is working for us?” In answer, Henri chuckled a bit and then rolled his shoulders a bit in answer.

                “That was Mary Shelley’s name for him. It isn’t his original name, but it is the name he’s had since we helped him evade the Hunters and disappear in 1,708,” Henri replied, “He does sign his name Frank N. Stein, but he prefers to be addressed as simply Francis.”

                “Oh,” said Josh, with a slow nod. As the news program resumed, his attention turned back toward the show. It demonstrated the seven mechs, with the spokeswoman talking about their sizes. The Aquaria and Angel Mechs that were demonstrated required a single operator and were a scant ten feet tall, while the Titan was a solid thirty-five feet tall and the Colossus stood with an even thirty-foot bulk.

                As the CNN special report ended, the pack returned to their responsibilities for the day, and Edmund opened the garage ramp when the monthly resupply shipment arrived. As the delivery drivers pulled their trucks into a parked position, a young woman with the appearance of a twenty-year-old presented herself before her new alpha and omega, promptly. She had a light complexion accented by a hip-length ponytail of true-black hair and irises of a medium teal blue, and stood at a solid five feet seven inches and one hundred fifty-five pounds. Her sniper rifle sheathed across her back in a long holster and her pistols at her hips, she was clothed in dark blue capris and a dark blue denim jacket, with blue-and-white sneakers, white ankle-socks, and a short-sleeved white tee.

                “You must be our new bitch Pathfinder,” Josh greeted, extending a hand, which she readily took, and shook.

                “Yep, that’s me. Amara Senne, ready to serve,” she greeted, cheerfully enough.

                “Sounds good,” Henri nodded as he shook hands and welcomed her to their pack, “For now, let’s add you to the unloading process. I trust you brought your personal effects with you; you can take the ninth room on the left side corridor for yourself, if you wish. We have a few houseguests right now, assisting in our current mission to stop Necropolis Corps activity in the area. They’re in the rooms on the right-side hallway.”

                “Understood, alpha,” she nodded quickly, and then promptly joined the rest of the pack in unloading things from the trucks and delivering them to the storerooms where they needed to be. Josh could tell Amara needed no time to recognize which of the people there weren’t fellow wolves, but both of them were pleased to see how comfortably she was willing to work with their undead friends.

                Once the unloading process was completed, the delivery trucks pulled out of the subterranean garage and the ramp closed, completely concealing the pack’s presence once more.

                “Zuleika,” Henri began once they had returned to the central hall, “are you able to use your telepathic ability in a more illusory or deceptive context?”

                “How do you mean?”

                “Can you make an enemy see something that isn’t there, outside the chaos and intensity of combat I mean,” he clarified, and she tilted her head thoughtfully for many moments.

                “Hmm... I think I could be able to do so, within a certain radius from myself, at least. The furthest any could be from me is not more than four hundred fifty feet; if I cannot sense their minds, then I cannot trick their minds,” she replied, “Do you have some idea that calls for such deception?”

                “Yes. An ambush spurred by misinformation. Convince them that an elite unit of zombie commandos is at a precise location in the forest; heavily armed, heavily armoured, with grenades and automatic rifles. Make them think there’s twenty-five men, with riot shields and tactical gear.”

                “I can do that,” Zuleika nodded, “It’ll draw a … _considerable_ … response from the Necropolis Corps to have report of something that dangerous.”

                “That is my hope. They undoubtedly still have nearly sixteen thousand men, there, and we need to cut those numbers down considerably,” Henri said, to which she nodded and excused herself to begin the process of locating an ideal spot for the ambush.

                A few minutes later, the newly arrived Amara walked up the stairs from having settled her belongings in her room, her gear already stowed in her own niche in the armoury.

                “Alpha, omega, could I possibly have a moment?” she asked, looking at her pack leaders with the respectful deference of a pack’s secondary bitch.

                “Of course, Amara,” Henri replied, rising first and drawing Josh by one hand to his feet with him, moving to join her as she returned to her newly claimed bedchamber. Once they reached her room, she closed the door after them and then moved to sit on the foot of her bed.

                “Thank you for allowing me to join the pack and embrace my role as secondary bitch. I feel like you deserve to know, both of you, why I have the rule against verbal and physical sadomasochism. My mother was Nicole Grulke,” Amara said, then continued when she saw the look of recognition on Henri’s expression, “yeah, _that_ Grulke, the super-rich family of self-centered assholes. My father was Damion Senne, he was a firefighter, a masculine fellow, handsome and heroic, and his cause of death, in my opinion, was manliness.”

                “Okay, technically, it was because he was murdered, but the reason it got that far was because he was simply too concerned with manliness. My mother abused him, physically, sexually, emotionally, so loudly that even when it was in my parents’ bedroom, I could hear it in my room through both doors,” Amara explained, “she called him names, even homophobic slurs sometimes when he pled with her to quit. Sometimes, when she was especially mad at him or unsatisfied for some reason, she would chain him up in the living room, and she’d be doing stuff to him right there in the living room even when I’d be getting home from school. I saw and heard stuff nobody should hear at all much less hearing one parent doing to the other one… but he was a proud man, he couldn’t give up the last bit of manly pride to report what was going on. When I was sixteen, she killed him in the process of abusing him to vent her own frustration, because he was too manly to ask for help; I had no such hesitation in calling the police immediately when I saw she’d killed my father.”

                “I testified against her at the trial, and I testified against her parents, too, because they knew what she did and they did not try to convince her to quit and did not force her to stop. All three of them were convicted for their role in his murder, my grandparents on my mother’s side were sentenced to seventy years in prison and my mother was given a one hundred and fifty year prison sentence. Since they were guaranteed to die in prison, the courts decided I should be the sole inheritor of all of the family’s assets and possessions. I liquidated all the assets, sold everything, and then I donated ninety-nine percent of it to the ACLU and put the last five million into a bank account so I could live off the interest. I made myself finish high school early and went into beauty school; my father always supported my desire to be a hairstylist, to break away from the wealthy lifestyle. I thought I would start a beauty salon, you know, and I was going to use the money to support the business so that we could provide the best for the cheapest price possible while still providing my employees a good payroll.”

                “I was happy to be approached for the turning, though, because this is a way for me to serve the memory of my father. He lived his whole life saving people… and now I can dedicate whatever centuries I may endure to doing the same,” Amara concluded.

                “Come, let us return to the central hall,” Josh invited, as he sensed the warming empathic atmosphere around the den, which suggested there were a few in the pack who wished to share things of their own histories with the other members of the pack.

                “Yes, omega,” Amara replied, and the three returned to the central hall, where several members of the pack rested, as well as most of their undead den-guests.

                “Everyone all right?” asked Henri as they ascended the stairs, and he returned to his small couch with Josh, pulling his mate into his lap and his arms as he did.

                “We thought we would share a bit more of ourselves with the pack,” Lyle said in answer.

                “Given that you and omega shared a bit about yourselves, and so did Cass, Helle, and Akoko,” Edmund said.

                “Our sorrows are nowhere near as deeply painful, but it’s still somewhat of a dull ache of sadness,” continued Lyle, “Our families died in the 1853 London riot, the ones conservatives call the ‘Queer riots,’ in an attempt to pervert the factual, recorded, many-witnessed history of the incident. Homosexuality was illegal in Great Britain at the time, but it was a time of great advancement in human rights for homosexuals: in 1811, Nederland and Dutch Indonesia decriminalised homosexual acts, Brazil did the same in 1830, Portugal had just done so in 1853.”

                “Naturally, we wanted it decriminalised in our country, as well, as did every person in Great Britain’s LGBT community, so they organized a peaceful protest of the country’s homophobic laws, a thousand people ranging from sixteen to sixty. It was met with hostile resistance from the nation’s conservative homophobes, of course, and a violent riot broke out; our families were amid six hundred conservatives who turned out to ‘kill the sodomites trying to pervert British Christendom.’ Before the ensuing riots were brought under control, seven hundred fifty-nine members of the protest were killed, as well as five hundred and twelve of their attackers,” Edmund went on, “When the police got it finally under control, everyone was arrested; the members of the protest who survived were jailed for twelve years for their homosexuality. The eighty-eight conservatives who survived each received numerous convictions for murder and were sentenced to sixty years of hard labour, though our families were among the dead.”

                “I’m sure there _are_ Dermott families and Chisholm families in the United Kingdom, to this day, but none of them have any direct blood relation to us. It was sad to us that our family lines were narrowed down to just the two of us,” Lyle concluded, “all because they couldn’t take to heart the teachings of tolerance, acceptance, and understanding. It has never been our place to judge another as being undeserving of life: we are taught as Christians that God is all-powerful. It stands to reason that if homosexuality were a perversion of which God did not approve, then very simply homosexuality would not exist, yet science demonstrates unequivocally that homosexuality is a natural occurrence; it cannot be sinful or moral to be natural.”

                “In the war for the independence of the colonies, we fought as commandos for the colonies, in the deep cover of remaining in our human forms for several years. In 1,779 our night-camp was attacked by an Elder Exile from one of the witching covens, a powerful warlock, born before the time of Christendom, but who converted to it because of its’ homophobic doctrines. He used his witchcraft to abduct us, and we woke stripped and bound, though we had with us a little chemical made by Stein, which left an olfactory trail outside the range of his own ability to smell it. For five days, testing the limits of our lupine regeneration, he tortured us with spellcraft, vile words, and a nine-tailed flogger with glass shards,” William started, “Our skin was covered liberally with dried blood by the end of the second day.”

                “Fortunately, our regeneration preserved our ability to mate, as the bastard did not shy away from striking us between the thighs or across the rump,” Alexander continued, “Finally, though, a pack sent to investigate our vanishing tracked us by Stein’s Scent Marker. It’s obsolete now, but it was fantastic in the 1,700s; it wasn’t detectable to humans, and it would last thirty years before it would start fading, thirty more before it would fade completely. They were able to overpower and kill the son of a bitch, freeing us and bringing us back to the headquarters to recover from the ordeal. It took a few decades, but thanks to our wolf nature and excellent therapists, we were able to force ourselves to distance our emotions from the memories and to not let the memories dominate our existence.”

                “Back in the 30s… well, the 1,930s, I had this operation going, I called it an _animal reclamation service_. Any time I heard of people abusing their animals, I’d stake the place out for a bit, bring my rifle, and bring some tranquilizer darts,” Shawn recounted, thoughtfully, “Busted a lot of bastards like that, collected the evidence, darted the living folk and seized the animals, then anonymously sent the evidence to the police. They weren’t always convicted for all their egregious abuses, but they never got their animals back, either. Like this one time, I took an entire horse-herd from an asshole up in Ontario, brought them down to a tribal reservation in Oklahoma, no chance of it being tracked.”

                “Had this badger in 1,936 – never managed to get him to stop trying to bite the living, but he never gave me trouble; sniffed me once or twice, realized he didn’t want to eat dirt, and I smell like fresh dirt,” Shawn continued, “I had to shift my attention to Germany when the war started, though. Canada and the U. S. cleared the record for every member of my operation that was still alive, in exchange for my participation in their sniper operations. I named that badger Bandy, kept him with me throughout the war and on until he died in 1,951. It was a little sad, having to put the little fluffer to rest, but… well, I got him a nice marble coffin, had him buried in the nicest pet cemetery I could find.”

                “That is very sweet,” Josh opined warmly, amidst the swell of empathic energies he could feel around him, and his sentiment was mirrored in the agreeable nods from others.

                “Thank you,” Shawn replied with a smile, looking over at Josh affectionately, “I realized last year how much money I had accumulated, donated several million dollars to the ASPCA’s efforts to improve the situation for animals here in the United States.”

  

* * *

 

 

                It didn’t take long for Zuleika to reach the vicinity of the Hunter compound in Mount Olive, nor did she have to wait all that long to begin to find patrols that she could observe the patterns of. It would be days before she would be able to report to the young alpha wolf, several millennia her junior, though she didn’t mind not being chief decision-maker. He had an entire pack to consider, including a kindhearted omega that had impressed her with exactly how willing he was to provide sexual gratification to anyone who asked for it. It was only fair that he should be the primary decision-maker in the tactics here: Zuleika had only to be concerned for herself, as was the case for Marcel, Aristos, and Shawn. Henri, though, had a dozen wolves to tend to the wellness of, and not place into situations of undue risk. Despite her slightly more than three thousand five hundred years of life, that was a responsibility she had never had; she’d never been a leader, she’d never been part of a group like this before. She was a lone warrior, doing everything in her power to protect humans from harm, often at the hands of other humans, and now she was working with others, and slowly becoming concerned about their welfare as much as her own.

                As she crouched untiring in the branches of one of countless trees in the forest, she quietly scanned the mind of every Hunter that passed within the four hundred fifty feet of her telepathic radius. She learned what drove them to their acts of hate, what they feared, what concerned them, and most importantly, how to draw them into a commitment of force. Even as she observed and listened, her mind wandered over the breadth of the epochs through which she had lived her life.

 

                _September 30, 1,941_

_Zuleika looked out over the ravine of Babi Yar, near the Ukrainian capital of Kiev, looking out on the mass of the bodies of those murdered by the Nazi menace. The corpses of nearly thirty-four thousand Jews filled the ravine, to the point it looked almost like a highway of bodies. People said it wasn’t her fault, but she had missed an opportunity to prevent all of this, because she hadn’t recognized an opportunity for what it was, at the time._

_“I should have killed that bastard when I had the chance… then he would’ve never fathered a monster,” she said to herself as she stood looking over the ravine full of corpses. She recommitted herself to the need to exterminate as many parties of Nazis as she could to hasten the end of this terrible war._

_She had met Alois and Klara Hitler in 1,886, before the German dictator had even been born, when she had been drawn to their household during one incident of Alois beating his wife. She had entered the residence by force, had used her power to beat Alois into submission, and warned him never to lay a hand on his wife again, but he had not learned his lesson._

_From that day in 1,941 onward, though, Zuleika regretted that she had not killed Alois Hitler for beating his wife, since he was clearly undeserving of fatherhood. She also lamented that she had missed an opportunity to ensure that Stalin would never leave the Russian prison system, and that those two failings had led to so much death._

 

                By the twentieth of July, she had committed their every pattern to memory, and reached out with her telepathy to a squad of six scouts. She reached out with her mind, connected to the minds of the four men and two women that the Hunter scout party comprised of, and telepathically implanted sensory information…

 

                _From the peripheries of their audition, the Hunter scouts heard the sound of weapons clicking, clacking, the clear sound of guns being checked and loaded, orders barked by a commander. The six reconnaissance patrollers slid stealthily through the forest, nearer and nearer to the source of the sound, before nearing a clearing from whence that sound originated. They drew up short, pressed their backs to the trees ahead of them, twisted a little bit to look around the tree over their shoulders, looking toward the source. They saw what appeared to be two dozen men, clad in black tactical gear, with riot shields and automatic rifles, a twenty-fifth walking between four rows of six._

_“Tighten up your lines, straighten those shields, boys! You’re Beowulf Section, and you’re going to rip apart that Hunter filth! The Queen Chancellor needs those disruptive little bastards destroyed to pave the way to taking control of this pitiful country!” said the twenty-fifth, himself attired in tactical gear. He had a riot shield on his back, a pistol on one hand and an automatic rifle on the other. Their eyes widened in horror, as they listened to the officer commanding his two dozen men, and heard a confirmation of their worst fears._

_The squad leader motioned silently, quickly, and the scouts retreated, seemingly undetected, until they were far enough away that they could no longer hear the sound of the zombie assault team prepping their gear._

_“We need to report this in,” the scout leader said, “Hopefully the zombies’ attack plan isn’t anytime in the next four days…”_

_Then, the six-scout squad rushed off through the forest, racing toward the compound with intense urgency._

 

                She watched them for several moments until their presence passed beyond the two-mile reach of Zuleika’s clairvoyance and clairaudience, fading from her vision and hearing. Once they were completely gone, Zuleika hurried back to the wolf-den to report on the location where they would need to set their trap. They would have four days and four nights to get ready, because Zuleika had learned how long it would take them to mobilize enough soldiers to feel secure in attacking twenty-five heavily armoured zombie warriors.

  

* * *

 

 

                Shortly after lunch on the twentieth, Akoko moved up behind Josh, reaching out and touching his right arm, just above the elbow, as they stepped out into the central hall.

                “Omega, are you busy?”

                “Nope,” Josh replied promptly, as he turned to face her with a warm smile for the chocolate-skinned beauty, his own size but only slightly heavier.

                “Could I have some time with you, then?”

                “Of course,” he replied, and her fingers slid down his hand to slip between his fingers, drawing him promptly down the stairs to the east corridor. Hers was room four of ten, and as they approached, Akoko reached out and opened her bedroom door, sliding into her room with him and closing the door behind her. Her shirt soon slid over her head, crumpling to rest on a small table beside her door as she smiled at her omega, watching as the bitch stripped for her.

                “So where is your cock? I don’t mind helping you put it on”

                “Actually, I was thinking today we could bond without it, if that is okay with you,” Akoko replied, as fingers worked to unbutton and unzip her shorts, sliding them and her panties down about her ankles. She crossed the narrow distance to where Josh was unbuttoning and unzipping his own jeans. She slid her fingers under his to finish and push them down quickly, as she pressed her breasts against his bared chest, and kissed him firmly on the lips. Josh blinked, before eyes fluttered shut and he felt her hands sliding around his hips to cup his ass tightly, assertively, pulling him against her. She kissed him for several minutes, her tongue slipping into his mouth aggressively, before withdrawing, looking into his eyes as they opened for her. Akoko slipped her feet forward, inducing him to slide his own bare soles backward across the floor, until he felt the foot of her bed against his thighs.

                “Akoko?” asked the youthful bitch inquisitively.

                “I do like cock, too, omega,” she answered simply as she pushed him firmly until he sat on the edge of her bed, before sliding her hands down over his sides. Her knees bent, and her hands continued to slide downward to his hips, as her face neared his almost painfully erect phallic muscle.

                “Oh, all right; where have you been getting it for the last few years?” asked Josh, archly.

                “I’ve been going without,” Akoko admitted, “ever since I joined the pack, I have not been sexually intimate in that context at all.”

                “I see… what have you been waiting for?” asked Josh, before whimpering softly in pleasure as he felt Akoko sliding her tongue up from the base of his cock to the plush, round head.

                “It takes me a long time feeling comfortable enough with someone to let them put their cock inside me, and I’ve honestly come to prefer simply using a bitch for that. I love sex, so I got the phallic relic,” Akoko answered, her tongue soon touching the base of his cock and sliding up again. He laid back on her bed and looked up at the ceiling, as Akoko continued to worship that eight-inch muscle, kissing and licking every inch of him. His fingers clutched the blankets and covers of her bed, arching and whimpering softly in pleasure, closing his eyes as he let her have complete access to his body for whatever she liked.

                “How many do you need, Akoko?” the youthful omega asked.

                “Well, how many do you think you can give me this morning?”

                “I feel energetic enough for two,” Josh said, and Akoko nodded.

                “Then two we’ll do,” Akoko said, before wrapping her lips around his cock and beginning to suck him gently, sinking her head all the way to the base, then rising up again, “Do you prefer fast or slow?” Josh arched a little bit in pleasure as he felt the vibrations as she spoke around the end of his cock.

                “Slow is good,” opined Josh. Akoko answered with an affirmatory moan before tightening her lips and then beginning to slide her head up and down slowly but steadily. Silk-soft lips caressed the length of his shaft in slow, up-and-down motions, while she massaged it with the warm, moist muscle of her tongue. Her head rose and sank on his cock at a languid pace, slow as she could make it for his satisfaction, sucking firmly while her tongue moved in a slow circling motion around the length.

                As she did, Josh arched his back and breathed deeply, releasing soft moans of pleasure that Akoko answered with her own, pleasant vibrations rolling through his cock. He closed his eyes and focused on lasting as long as possible for her enjoyment, since she said she wanted his cock and he wanted to let her have it for the most time he could.

                Akoko moaned gently on his length, increasing her volume a little bit and beginning to hum consistently on it as she slid her soft lips up and down the eight-inch phallic muscle. Her tongue swirled around the plush head, every time her lips pursed around the underside of it, licking off the sweet, savoury oil of his prerelease. The feeling of her tongue brushing forcefully across the tip of his prick caused him to whimper softly and arch a little bit more insistently, sighing in arousal. He bit his lip gently, chewing lightly on his lower lip as she continued to move on his cock, Akoko’s persistence drawing him nearer and nearer to release as he struggled to resist for her benefit.

                Finally, he felt himself starting to pulse in her mouth after nearly thirty minutes of her mouth moving on his shaft. He felt her lips curving around his prick as she continued to bob her head slowly and firmly, sucking hard and moaning gently in pleasure around him. The scent of her arousal and happiness filled his nostrils as he finally clenched her blankets and covers even tighter and allowed himself to pulse forcefully into her mouth. Akoko moaned louder as his seed surged into her mouth, savouring the flavour of him on her tongue, swallowing enthusiastically until it finished and then sliding down to the hilt once more. She drew the last drops from her omega’s prick and swallowed them, too, before pulling herself up off the floor with her hands on his lower thighs.

                “Mm, delicious,” Akoko praised as she slid her hips forward, brushing the moist slit of her sex over the length of his rod, and then quickly slid herself down on it, “God, your stamina is fantastic, omega.”

                “Thank you,” Josh breathed as her hands moved to his chest, propping herself up as she allowed his shaft to slide to the hilt inside of her, with a soft moan of her own pleasure.

                “Oh, God, omega… you feel so good inside me,” Akoko moaned softly in pleasure, a shiver running all the way from her shoulders to her thighs. Her inner walls shivered around his rod, tightening as her muscles contracted, a low growl of pleasure rolling up from her breasts, through her throat, and out through dark, beautiful lips. He smiled up at her, as her hands moved to his shoulders and clenched tightly, her hips beginning to move on his cock as Akoko started to ride him lustfully.

                He felt her fingers curl as she pressed her nails against his skin, arching in pleasure as Akoko’s hips rose and fell against the steel-hard shaft of his prick. His eyes fluttered shut, a soft whimper of arousal rolling out of him as the scent of her lust and need filled the room, and his nostrils. She growled wolfishly with her own erotic excitement, her back arching firmly, breasts pressed forward and outward as her hips rolled hard against his phallic muscle. He could feel the plush tip of his head pressing against her each time a higher-pitched growl of desire rolled out of her lips, and he knew he was able to reach the depth vital for her pleasure. Josh felt her inner walls pulsing around him as Akoko’s pleasure pheromones spiked in the air, and he smelled and felt her attaining release for the first time in the tryst. Even as her release further slickened her channel, she continued to ride the thick, rigid length of his straight, eight-inch cock with a soft moan of pleasure. Her hands slid down from his shoulders, nails creating light red lines down his chest as her palms slid down, until her fingers reached his nipples, pinching and twisting firmly.

                He arched with a whimper of masochistic arousal as she scratched and pinched, and growled in pleasure as Akoko continued to ride him while she did. Josh bucked his hips up against her as she continued to ride the youthful omega, arching their backs as Akoko’s hips rose and sank in rapid succession against him. She leaned down, pressing her lips against his as she continued to hammer her hips as hard as she could, riding him with urgency and lust, pushing down around the base of his shaft with each downward thrust of her hips.

                For nearly forty more minutes, Akoko’s body arched, the air filled with the sound of her pleasured growling and the scent of her arousal pheromones. Josh’s hips moistened with her successive climaxes, as she came on his cock several more times, though he failed to keep track as he resisted the temptation to release before she was ready for his seed. Finally, she laid herself against him, her nipples swaying gently against his chest as she continued to ride him in a slower, more impassioned manner.

                “Please, omega… I need it now…” It was all he needed to hear, and as she sank down to the hilt once more, he allowed himself to attain his second release. His seed surged inside of her, his cock pulsing hard within the moist channel of her sex, and his release joined hers between their hips and in the covers of her bed. It was good that laundry collection for the bedding would be later today, as he felt the halo of moisture around his hips in her bedding and knew that she’d thoroughly enjoyed herself.

                “Thank you, omega,” she breathed as she laid herself against him with his length still buried hilt-deep inside of her, her palms on his shoulders, wrapped around underneath him and crossed behind his shoulder-blades.

                “You’re welcome, Akoko,” Josh answered, his own arms wrapped around her with his palms on her back as well, fresh scratches on her back from the carnal nature of their tryst, “How many did you get to have?” There was a long moment of silence as Akoko thought about it, lifting her head and kissing him passionately on the lips, her tongue sliding into his mouth, as she lay comfortable atop her omega. The air was filled with the smell of sex, but it was also rich in the pheromones of her happiness, satisfaction, and sexual elation.

                “Seven,” she whispered as she pulled her lips back from his own, tongue sliding back into her own mouth as she separated their lips. She kissed him passionately once more, and lay with him for another hour before they moved to the baths to wash up after their tryst.

                By the time they arrived in the baths, Zuleika was there soaking away her own muscle tension, having already reported in to Henri on the progress.

                “Good afternoon, Josh,” Zuleika greeted casually, “Henri took Helle, Hildegarde, Alexander, William, and Amara to set up the ambush, he asked me to let you know they should be back in about two hours.”

                “Thank you, Zuleika,” Josh answered, as he and Akoko slid into the steaming, faintly-bubbling heat of their communal bath to soak and relax before washing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, any comments, observations, impressions, questions, or courteous critiques, are absolutely welcome, so feel free to leave whatever input you might want to provide! Also, again, thank you so much for continuing to read the story of Josh Colcord, and I really hope you're continuing to enjoy the story!


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The continuing story of the omega, Josh Colcord, and his alpha, Henri Barre, as their pack confronts the multitude of the Necropolis Corps, the Hunter's Soldiery's slayers of the undead.

                As the sun rose on the twenty-fourth, Josh stood in the communal shower washing following his dawn tryst with his mate, ears perking at the sound of shuffling cotton. The scent of fertile loam filled his nostrils, the sound of cloth sliding across flesh and slowly being folded, before he felt soft hands sliding around his lower stomach, a little above the sturdy curvature of his hips. Even as those palms came to rest on his stomach, he felt Shawn’s phallic muscle against the crease of his ass, and the zombie’s lips touching the left nape of his neck. He leaned back against Shawn’s offered embrace, his body glistening with moisture already as the other kissed his neck, drawing his moistened tongue along it as well.

                “Good morning,” Josh greeted breathily, as Shawn pressed firmly against him, “May I ask you something?”

                “Of course,” Shawn breathed the words against his shoulder, “Always.”

                “I thought that as a zombie, you no longer had physical needs. How is it that you then find you desire me?”

                “Spiritual need,” Shawn whispered against his shoulder, one hand trailing down to his hips, fingers slipping around his erect phallic shaft, gripping it caressingly, “Our intimate times accommodate a deeper, more transcendental need in my soul.” Josh nodded, arching himself submissively into Shawn’s grasp, as his mind processed the fact that though Shawn’s need for him was sexual, it was not actually about the sex, but an intimate, spiritual companionship. As Shawn’s hand slid up and down along the length of his shaft, beginning to stroke Josh’s arousal lovingly, he gave a soft sigh of arousal as he allowed himself to melt more comfortably into Shawn’s chest.

                “It is also nice to remember the days when my heart was beating, when my skin was warm, when my blood flowed in my veins. It is nice to be able to savour food and drink without consequence, to breathe without the fear of airborne pathogens, to not need to use the lavatories, but life is remembered with fondness,” Shawn explained in depth.

                “I can understand that thought,” Josh agreed; he had no real point-of-reference, but the empathic energies he sensed radiating from Shawn’s mind made comprehension easy for him.

                “Turn around for me,” whispered the zombie into his ear. Josh twisted himself slowly around, feet sliding across the glass tile, until Shawn’s hands pressed against his chest, and Shawn looked slightly down into his eyes once Josh had settled into the new position. Shawn pressed his lips firmly against the youthful omega’s, kissing him deeply, tongue sliding through the younger, shorter male’s lips as his hands slid around to cupping Josh’s ass gently. Kneading the skin and the muscle underneath it as he kissed while standing in the warm rain, vapourous clouds of steam around them, Shawn smiled at him as the steam billowed slowly.

                Eyes of Egyptian blue focused down on irises of dark green, for a moment, before the well-tanned older male slid his hands gently down to the sturdy bone of his hips. Shawn slid slowly downward, with his hands firmly gripping Josh’s hips as he knelt, starting to lick and kiss the eight-inch length of the youthful omega’s phallic muscle. He gave a faint moan, brushing his chest across Josh’s knees and thighs as he licked and kissed that nicely tanned rod, before he wrapped his lips around the tip and slid his mouth down on it. Josh arched, his fingers sliding into Shawn’s hair as the kneeling, older male took him into his mouth and started to suck firmly, head rising and lowering in quick motions that slid his lips along the full length, taking him partially into his throat.

                “Ohh, wow,” Josh breathed, “this is not your first time doing this.” Even though it was the first time Shawn’s knees had bent and touched the floor for Josh, he knew the lips of a proficient fellator when he felt them. Shawn began to increase his pace slowly, his lips sweeping up and down faster and more forcefully with every movement, increasing marginally each time. Josh arched his back, swaying his hips forward with a low groan of pleasure and arousal. Shawn pulled his lips up to the plush head, licking the tip firmly, affectionately, as he looked up at the eternal eighteen-year-old omega wolf.

                “Do you prefer fast or slow? I can slow it down if you like,” Shawn offered, generously, and Josh answered with a slow nod of appreciation. Shawn slid his lips slowly down to the base, taking his time to sink until his lips were able to wrap around the hilt of it, sucking firmly on some and swallowing around the rest. Josh closed his eyes and he savoured the sensation as Shawn moaned gently, seemingly continuously, around his shaft, producing a pleasurable resonation throughout the phallic muscle. The kneeling, older male soon slid his mouth back again; pulling up slowly until he was sucking gently on the plush head of the young wolf-cock, before Shawn slowly took it into his mouth and throat again, taking it until his lips wrapped around the hilt once more. Josh closed his eyes and his fingers soon found their way into the strands of Shawn’s pretty, golden yellow hair, holding tightly as Shawn started to rise off his cock again. Each slow, pleasure-rich sweep of his lips across the sensitive shaft brought Josh nearer and nearer to release. Finally, nearly eighteen minutes later, Josh’s seed was pulsing down the length of his cock and surging into the older male’s mouth and throat, swallowed without hesitation.

                “Mm,” Shawn groaned around the length of muscle in his mouth and throat, sucking firmly to pull out every drop as he slid up, pausing to lick off the last drops as he sucked firmly on the velvety head of his cock, “Delicious.” Josh blushed at the praise but smiled at him sweetly as Shawn stood, arms slipping around him to grasp his shoulders from behind, pulling him gently downward. The eternal eighteen-year-old offered no resistance, bringing his lips down on Shawn’s chest and kissing his way down as his knees bent, soon transitioning into a kneel in front of him. Kissing the older male’s eight-and-a-half-inch prick, Josh focused his attention on it for several moments until fingers entwined themselves into strands of dark brown hair and pulled.

                The youthful omega’s lips parted as the supple head pressed forcefully through them, taking it to the hilt and swallowing gently, sucking gently on the section in his mouth. He swallowed around the rest, stroking all the way up to the velvety tip with the muscles in his throat as Shawn’s spine arched, he sighed softly in pleasure, and pulled his hips back before thrusting forward once more. As the older male steadied himself and accelerated into a comfortable rhythm, he tightened his fingers then relaxed them. He spread his fingers out to cup the curvature of Josh’s skull as he began to ride his mouth swifter and firmer with every stroke. Even as Shawn’s movements became quicker and harder, Josh moaned gently to provide a pleasurable vibration to Shawn’s phallic shaft, encouraging the older male further.

                Even under his skillful ministrations, the young omega had to work for some time before he felt Shawn start to pulse in his mouth. Finally, after nearly fourteen minutes, however, Shawn closed his eyes tightly, gripped his head a bit more firmly, and thrust with more force and urgency. He groaned in pleasure arching his back powerfully as he thrust hard, sliding the full length of his cock into the kneeling younger male’s throat, pushing his nuts inside the oral chamber. Josh’s eyes remained shut as he rolled his tongue over them gently, sucking tenderly on the delicate jewels in his mouth as he swallowed around the length in his throat. Caressing it and stroking it with his throat muscles, the young omega encouraged his friend further, until a long, low moan of pleasure rolled out of Shawn’s lips as he released deep in Josh’s throat, almost directly into his stomach.

                He didn’t pull back right away, instead holding Josh’s head down for a minute or so while the kneeling male sucked firmly, swallowing harder. Josh felt the last drops of his release sliding up his length and out into his throat as Shawn’s fingers relaxed against his head, and started to pull him gently off it instead of holding him on it. He took a deep breath as that phallus slid free of his throat, inhaling around it as Shawn withdrew, and looked up at the yellow-haired male. Shawn smiled, relaxing his grip and then promptly tousling wet hair that was almost brown-black because of the moisture, taking a deep breath before he slid his hands down to Josh’s underarms. He pulled, and Josh returned to a standing position in front of him. As he did, Shawn’s lips pressed firmly against his own, arms sliding around him in a tight embrace, his tongue sliding into the young omega’s mouth as they stood under the water’s spray, with Josh’s cock lying over Shawn’s still-erect length.

                “That was fantastic,” Shawn whispered as his lips parted slowly from Josh’s a moment later, looking into the younger male’s eyes before his hands slid down to grip his rump firmly. His grip tightened as Shawn lifted, carrying Josh a step forward with the tips of Josh’s toes sweeping gently across the tile until his back touched the glass tiles of the wall, the slick tip of his cock sliding down across the young omega’s perineum. Josh arched his back slightly away from the glass tile, biting his lower lip as he looked down into Shawn’s eyes as the older male’s cock slid further, now against the crease of his rump.

                “Still more?” the young omega asked breathlessly, sliding his arms around Shawn’s torso encouragingly and gripping his shoulders for support.

                “Zombies have,” Shawn began as his fingers pulled Josh’s cheeks apart, hips tensing for a moment before he thrust to the hilt inside the omega’s ass, “unlimited stamina.” At Shawn’s claim, the young omega blinked and looked down at him incredulously, as that seemed hard to believe to him.

                “Limitless sexual endurance?” came the natural query, and Josh watched him nod in answer as his hips slid back, pulling his cock slowly out of his ass before thrusting to the hilt once more.

                “We’re already dead, we are physically incapable of becoming exhausted,” Shawn replied, though he stayed focused on the sex at hand, “The real question for a zombie is ability to remain focused on intimate sexual interaction.”

                “Ohh,” Josh replied, “So if you lose it, it’s because you got distracted.” Shawn nodded, leaning up to kiss his lips passionately once more as his hips moved in firm thrusts with an excellent consistency. The velvety head brushed across Josh’s prostate as Shawn’s hands tightened further on his ass to control the position of his body better, and the younger male moaned softly in pleasure into the blond’s kiss. He could feel himself hardening against Shawn’s belly, as the older male fucked his ass in long, smooth, powerful thrusts, withdrawing slowly before hammering it into him, anew, caressing his prostate each time he slid out of him.

                For several minutes, Shawn hammered his length into Josh’s pert, graspable ass, tightening and relaxing his fingers as he maintained his grip on it. He slowed when the young omega felt his cock beginning to pulse hard between their stomachs, pulling back from the kiss to look into the youthful wolf’s eyes, with a satisfied smile as Josh’s seed surged out of him. Josh arched in pleasure with a soft moan, as he felt Shawn’s cock pulsing inside of him as the older male released for a second time within him.

                “Had to be certain you got your fair share of the pleasure,” Shawn whispered in his ear, “It’d be rude, taking more than I give, after all.” Josh smiled at him as Shawn slid his hips back, pulling free of his rump, before they spent a few minutes rinsing off. Once they were both clean, they dried thoroughly and then dressed themselves, returning to the central hall with their hair still somewhat moist, since it dried so much more slowly than skin.

 

* * *

 

 

                As Shawn and Josh bonded in the den’s communal showers, Zuleika ascended the stairs into the central hall from the western corridor, empathically sensing the deep contemplation of her fellows. In the central hall, Marcel and Aristos both sat silently, in their own distinct positions in the room, though both of them were detectably in significant contemplative states, mired in some amorous dilemmas.

                “You two all right?” asked Zuleika, as she found a seat midway between them; though the wolves were about, they were tending to different tasks of their own that dealt with the den’s maintenance.

                “More or less,” answered Marcel, rolling his shoulders as he continued, “Just thinking about my relationship with my boyfriend and where I want to go with it.”

                “Do you want to talk about it? Sometimes talking about it helps the mind work through things,” she replied, and Marcel nodded, moving over to sit respectfully nearer.

                “His name is Franklin Roskov, he’s with the Eire Coven. This year’s his seven hundred seventy-third birthday as a warlock, technically his seven hundred and ninety-fourth,” Marcel said explanatively, “We’ve been together for about four hundred years. We’re agreeably polyamorous, and we have both agreed that as long as we’re unwed, well, we don’t really need to know who the other is trysting with. The ruling a few years ago, though, the one that federally recognized marriage as a constitutional right to which same-gender couples are lawfully and constitutionally entitled, made us start thinking about why we hadn’t married yet.”

                “Have you thought of a reason, yet?” was Zuleika’s response, her tone supportively inquisitive. Marcel only rolled his shoulders and shook his head in response, at first, taking a breath before he replied.

                “… not really, no,” Marcel answered, “I mean, for about a century now, we thought the only reason that we’d remained unwed was because it wasn’t fair that we could marry and the average couple like us was still being refused.”

                “And now that it’s legal even in the United States?”

                “He hasn’t proposed,” replied Marcel, “I know I’ve hinted at it, but… I suppose maybe I haven’t been hinting it strongly enough that I’m ready to take our relationship to the next level. Or maybe he wants to wait until it’s legal somewhere outlandish like Russia, or something. Let’s just say I think we’re likely to see Humans putting colonies on each of Jupiter’s moons before the Russian _dictatorship_ pulls its’ head out of its’ ass on homosexuality.” He put special emphasis on the first syllable of the word dictatorship, to suggest how he felt about Vladimir Putin’s recent successor.

                “I knew this man about a thousand years ago, least it was a thousand years ago when I last saw him. We met sometime before the whole Red Sea incident when Santorini went to hell. His name was Cleonymus, son of Krokinos, a Hellene who had become a member of the Nebit Clan. Leopards, of course, are warm-blooded and naturally sexual creatures, so we had much the same relationship: he would sate his more carnal needs elsewhere, but, we were married from about… hmm,” Zuleika paused thoughtfully, “From Leonidas to Charlemagne, I’d say. I had to be the one that asked him, though, you see, because he was sometimes plagued by uncertainties, and a nervousness about whether or not I would be interested in such a thing.”

                “So where is Cleonymus now?” asked Aristos, moving over to sit in polite range as well, intrigued by mention of a fellow Hellene.

                “Dead, unfortunately; Hunters ambushed him and his team, killing three, though the last one escaped to tell the location and counterstrike,” Zuleika answered.

                “So you think I should ask Franklin to marry me?”

                “If you want to be married to him and he hasn’t asked you yet, it seems as if maybe he has been waiting for you to ask as much as you have been waiting for him to ask. In the end, though,” Zuleika offered, “only you can make the decision about whether you want to make the proposal or receive the proposal. That part is up to you alone.”

                “Could I ask your advice on something, Zuleika?” asked Aristos, following a long moment of silence.

                “Of course,” she replied unhesitatingly.

                “I’ve been with this woman for couple thousand years, now, her name’s Zody Traore. Zody is an Elemental, Lightning in particular,” Aristos explained, then continued, “So recently, she told me she wants to have children.”

                “Sounds like a shocking experience,” Zuleika offered, wittily. Aristos chuckled a little bit, shaking his head.

                “Every single night, since I’m metal,” Aristos observed, “This was an entirely different kind of shock, though. I’m not completely certain about what I should do about the fact she wants kids; I mean I _can_ father children, but…”

                “Yet you’re not sure you want to have children in the first place,” Zuleika concluded, to a nod from Aristos, “I’ve never had children, either, mainly because I don’t like any of the stuff that you have to do to produce children.”

                “That about sums it up, yes,” Aristos replied, “but at the same time, Zody and I have been together for two thousand years. Like Marcel and his mate, we’re polyamorous, but we got married about six centuries back, with the agreement that we don’t need to know who the other’s been with.”

                “I have this friend, Lenna, member of Clan Hu, she had a similar problem about eight centuries back,” Zuleika replied, “she and her mate, fellow out of the Kargol Tribe, were having the discussion. He wanted children, but Lenna wasn’t certain she wanted to have kids, herself. Eventually, roundabout 1,330s, Lenna allowed herself to get pregnant, her mate fathered four children with her over the next century or thereabouts. Two of them were born tigers, like her, and two were born gargoyles, like him.”

                “So she just decided to deal with the discomfort and set aside her disinterest?”

                “She’s told me since then, having children was a decision she’s never regretted, her only regret was that she hadn’t made the decision sooner, or without the impetus of a mate’s desire,” Zuleika replied, “Kids can be remarkable, rewarding, and life-affirming. This, of course, assumes you have no specific disliking of children in general nor more particularly of having them around for a minimum of two decades. During that time, they will be needy, demanding, mooching, and incessantly interrogative; they’ll be expecting tons of attention, answers to every question, explanations for every bodily function, asking ‘why’ nine times in a row…”

                “Sounds exhausting,” Aristos observed.

                “It is, according to Lenna, but she’s always told me that as tiring and enervating as it is, as weary as it made her, it was also extraordinarily rewarding. It’ll be the hardest, most important, most challenging thing you ever do that you’ll wait decades to be thanked for or even see valued by the children themselves, she tells me, but it’s also the most respectable and most rewarding, according to her. Of course,” Zuleika replied, “the choice to have children ultimately depends on the two people considering making a child or children. It should be about whether or not you want children, whether or not you feel like you’re prepared to take on the challenge which that represents.”

                “You really know how to phrase things to be an overpowering temptation, Zuleika,” Aristos chuckled dryly, “Describing it as hard, challenging, exhausting… as if a Spartan has ever refused a challenge or backed down from a fight in his life. Way to throw down the gauntlet on me.” Zuleika chuckled and rolled her shoulders, smiling a little in answer to the comment.

                “Just trying to provide some insight that might help you to make a decision that’s yours,” Zuleika answered.

                “Oh, you’ve certainly done that, and you’ve certainly been helpful,” Aristos confirmed, “Well, I guess Zody will be happy to hear we’re going to make a family, finally.”

                “Just as long as you are sure for yourself; when you make a decision, you must own that decision, it must be your choice, one you will never regret because you made it for someone else instead of making it for yourself,” Zuleika said, and Aristos nodded.

                “Right,” Aristos replied, “Well, I’ve always been looking for the next major challenge. I guess fatherhood’s the next big leap on challenging myself; once we’ve driven out the Necropolis Corps, we’ll build a family, I suppose.”

                As Aristos nodded, the door of the communal shower opened, with Josh and Shawn emerging moist-haired, freshly bathed and dried.

                “So, Shawn, what did you do following World War II?” asked Josh as they walked into the room, curious to know more about his zombie lover and companion, “I mean, I assume your animal reclamation service didn’t resume?”

                “No, I had to find another way to help out at that point, so I learned the veterinary sciences and learned how to operate on animals and heal them,” Shawn replied, “for about ten years I ran a clinic in Buffalo, New York, until the beginning of the Vietnam War. I would call the Vietnam War the darkest moment in American history, not because of the war itself, or how the war went, or even how effective the enemy’s guerrilla tactics were, but because of the raw, unadulterated cruelty expressed by the American people when their veterans returned.” Shawn shook his head a little, disgusted with the behaviour of his fellow citizens at the end of the war when America’s soldiers returned home from a long, painful war that had crippled, killed, or maimed them by the hundreds of thousands.

                “American soldiers were returning from a war to protect the freedom and the democracy of South Vietnam, a war to protect the exact values of the United States Constitution in another country, for another people. They suffered nineteen and a half years of guerrilla brutality, the death of hundreds of thousands of civilians, hundreds of thousands of soldiers, the devastating maiming or crippling of over one million, all in defense of South Vietnam’s right to have the same things we take for granted in the United States. How were they received by the cowardly little fucks that had no spine to fight to protect another population’s right to the same constitutional protections we enjoy here? They were reviled, scorned, and denigrated, treated like monsters by people with no clue of the horrific and monstrous tactics of the guerrilla warfare waged by the Viet Cong. I was there. I saw it all. Near the end of the war, I encountered a troupe of North Vietnamese poachers and illegal animal traffickers and eliminated them, discovered they had killed a large number of adult spectacled langurs, captured several infants most of which had also died, all but one of them.”

                “I gave the men their funereal rites, and I gave the monkeys their funereal rights, then I took the last surviving monkey with me. It was mid-April, couple weeks before the war ended, and since the decision had already been made, I took one of the extraction transports and came back to the States. I named the little guy Dusky, I’ve never been really great with naming things I guess, took him to the nearest Circle of the Eire Coven I could find to get him fully healed up, just for the sake of certainty, you know. Then I visited the nearest Circle I could find from the Cassandre Coven, to ask them to tell me how to feed and care for the fluffy little dude, cause I sure as hell had no clue what Dusky Leaf Monkeys are supposed to be eating. That made me need to go to the Ruith Coven to get the necessary plants to allow him to eat at his own pace and made me become a bit of a botanist, too, since I needed to keep the plants thriving well, too,” Shawn went on, at some length, “He lived about twenty-six years. He was with me all through the 1,982 Lebanon War where I fought for the Israelis alongside their Southern Lebanese allies, the Gulf War, the Bosnian War, and the Kosovo War. He was twenty-six when he died, extraordinary for his species since they usually live roughly fifteen to twenty-five years at the best, but I took the best possible care of him. I had him buried in the same kind of coffin that I had for Bandy, in the plot right beside Bandy; when I buried Bandy, I reserved a plot beside his with the caretakers, just in case I ever decided to have another pet.”

                “Sounds like you take excellent care of your pets, and those of as many other people as you can, too,” Josh replied, and Shawn nodded a bit.

                “Yeah, animal health has always been really important to me. I feel like sapience comes with responsibilities, and one of those responsibilities is to care for the environment and for other lifeforms.”

                Shortly after eleven in the morning, Henri entered the central hall, ascending the stairs from the east corridor, partially clothed in tactical gear with a dark green and dark brown camouflage pattern.

                “Everyone ready for the ambush this afternoon, and knows the plan?” The question was met with nods from around the room, from the four undead allies and the six members of the pack with offensive combat specializations.

                Following lunch, they armed and armoured themselves, providing Shawn with a pair of submachine guns for his position, while providing 60-caliber pistols with silencers and flash suppressors to Marcel. As the wolves and the Spartan were checking their sword-blades and special weapons, Henri pulled Josh into his arms, kissing his omega’s lips passionately as he slid his tongue through his mate’s lips for several minutes.

                “Come back safely, alpha,” instructed Josh, and Henri nodded as he slipped away from their embrace, quickly departing for the afternoon ambush.

 

* * *

 

 

                The chosen site of the ambush was a clearing large enough to accommodate twenty-five men and then some, but when they arrived, only Zuleika and Shawn proceeded to it. Zuleika prepared to shape her telekinetic abilities into a shell while Shawn did one last check on his submachine guns, while Marcel and Aristos faded from visibility on the clearing’s side of a couple trees. Meanwhile, the wolves scaled the branches of the trees to preassigned positions that encircled the field, before Henri heard voices in his ear.

                “In position, Henri,” said Marcus, from a little over thirteen hundred feet away, accompanied by Kelly and Matthew, checking their rifles, “Rifles ready.”

                “Position acquired,” said Bella, from a similar distance in the opposite direction, accompanied by Edgar and Constantine, “Rifles ready.”

                “Enemy approaching,” Zuleika reported, sensing the empathic emanations of the Hunters’ hate, their wrath, and their malevolent intent.

                “Engaging radio silence; good luck,” Henri said, terminating the conversation, inducing instant quietude.

                A few minutes later, the Hunters began to emerge through the forestland’s dense mass of trees, approaching from all sides simultaneously, in three tight lines, their automatic rifles held ready before them. As they neared where they expected to find the zombie squad training, a wash of psychic energy rolled out from Zuleika, at once producing the intended illusion and a telekinetic shield around herself and Shawn.

                Henri waited, a detonator switch in one hand and a fishing line in the other, watching and scenting their slow, cautious approach.

                _You poor dumb bastards; you’re right to be cautious, but you have no clue what you’re walking into_ , Henri thought to himself, philosophically.

                As the Hunters closed in on the perceived enemies, they passed beneath and between enemies to whom they were oblivious of the presence of whom. Soon, their slowly constricting concentric circles inched over the claymores, distributed in a sparse ring, a total of fifty of them, as Henri pressed the detonator trigger. Just as one Hunter stepped over and the one behind him stepped up near it, the claymores detonated, each one fatally wounding six Hunters who were within a scant two and a half metre radius of the explosive. A heartbeat later, Henri yanked on the fishing line, which was threaded through the pins of just over four dozen grenades, yanking their pins and dropping them through the branches of the trees. Brilliant flashes of fire and kinetic force exploded six feet off the ground, behind one man’s head and directly in front of another’s face. Each grenade fatally wounded an additional six Hunters in brutal bursts of flame, shrapnel, and terrible concussive force, as the explosives of the Masquerade had markedly higher yield than the average human military munition.

                The earth shook, the trees shook with it in the wake of the two large explosive detonations, and the morale of the Hunters wavered briefly into chaos. As it did, loud gunshots sounded from two crossing angles as their human allies fired on the disoriented mass once, twice, then thrice, while Shawn opened fire on the Hunters in his line of sight in one direction. Simultaneously, Marcel and Aristos drew long-bladed, single-edges knives and whirled into motion on the opposite side as Shawn’s gunfire, slicing jugular veins and femoral arteries across the foremost line of Hunters, at the edge of the clearing.

                Even as Hunters fell to knife-blades and bullets, Henri and the members of his pack dropped smoke bombs into sections of the Hunters’ faltering line. As smoke billowed and concealed them, they dropped from the trees with swords drawn, in the midst of the Hunter mass, sword-blade slicing across or through the necks of some before being impaled through the heart of another. For several seconds, the smoke obscured all visibility and Hunters fell in silent death, whispers of metal the only sound to herald their swift demise. When the smoke started to clear, Henri and those of his pack leapt once more into the trees, vanishing from visibility once more with dozens of Hunters lying dead once the smoke bomb had dissipated.

                When the clouds of smoke arose, the snipers to either side switched the trajectories of their fire to shoot away from the smoke, at clearly visible targets on the outermost ring. As Hunter morale splintered under the withering and well-orchestrated ambush, some broke and attempted to flee, while others started to coalesce around their commander as he shouted to reform the lines. When he fell to the ground with a tranquilizer dart puncturing deep into the small of his back on the left side, the confidence and determination of the last remnants failed them. As they tried to flee, they were run down by wolves and revenants, or shot dead by snipers; when the field was silent, steel shackles were affixed to the wrists and ankles of the Hunter Commander, and a steel muzzle affixed to his jaw.

                “You best get out of here quick, sir,” said Matthew, approaching as Henri hoisted the unconscious Hunter on his shoulder, “Those explosions drew a lot of attention, and there’s chatter on the radio frequencies. I’ll cover for you, and we’ll use our criminalists and criminologists to determine an explanation for this; we can probably manage to call them anarchic extremists.” He paused a moment, thoughtfully, looking over the carnage of all the dead. There would however, still be one problematic question.

                “The trick is going to be figuring out how to explain why they’re all dead,” Matthew opined, “I’m sure we’ll figure it out, though.” Henri nodded, and then all of them hastened from the area as quickly as they could manage, to leave the detective alone with the crime scene, Kelly taking his rifle with her to eliminate all chance of his involvement being uncovered.

                For the wolves’ part, Henri delivered the captured Hunter Commander into the custody of a prison cell, and removed the muzzle, though he left the man shackled and disarmed. Interrogating the new prisoner, however, was not Henri’s responsibility; that task fell to Josh, as the training of the pack omega included various techniques by which a captured enemy could be interviewed. What information could be gleaned from this prisoner? Henri couldn’t imagine the man’s worth for interrogative purposes, but he was certain that his mate would come away with something worth knowing about the Necropolis Corps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay -- there was quite a bit of contemplation and research that went into this chapter, but I feel satisfied with the way it came out. Please feel free to leave any comments, thoughts, observations, questions, impressions, or courteous critiques, that you might feel appropriate, or let me know how you're liking the story or how you feel about any individual character. Thanks for reading!


	9. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The continuing story of the omega, Josh Colcord, and his alpha, Henri Barre, as their pack confronts the multitude of the Necropolis Corps, the Hunter's Soldiery's slayers of the undead.

                On the morning of Tuesday the twenty-fifth of July, Valentin walked into the dining room carrying platters with a breakfast of sausage patties and variously-topped pancakes, a thought came to Josh.

                “So, I know this may be a bit of an odd, random question, but what’s everyone’s favourite book, or your most hated piece of literature? My personal favourite is the Last Herald-Mage Trilogy, by Mercedes Lackey, it’s part of her Valdemar Saga,” Josh opened, “I think the only writing I could say I really hate is those 50 Shades novels and basically anything that tries to justify the unjustifiable. Fiction stories in general are my favourite, though, but I don’t like crime stories at all.”

                “I’ll agree with you about the 50 Shades stories being my least favourite bit of literature,” Henri opined, “for me it’s a tossup between 50 Shades and Twilight as to which one offends me more. One proposes that every Dominant is a serial rapist and chronic abuser, and the other depicts our entire species in a depreciatory light. My favourite piece of writing, though, comes from quite some time before I was born; Aristotle’s treatise on ethicality, his Nicomachean Ethics, is a beautiful piece of literature. I tend to like science fiction the most; I may be young compared to Zuleika or Aristos, but I’ve lived long enough to see most things written in science fiction eventually evolve into science fact. I think I have to agree about the crime thrillers or whatever they call them as the genre I don’t want to read at all.”

                “I love that treatise; I managed to procure a direct transcription of it through Aristotle’s son, Nicomachus, in the form of scrolls. I convinced him to write it in Hellenic and Persian, every passage written once in each language, though it cost me handsomely. I then paid handsomely again, to have a preservation charm placed on each scroll in that collection by a member of the Huldre Coven, but I can’t say I’ve ever regretted the investment. I don’t think I necessarily have a least favourite novel,” Zuleika opined, “but any manner of ludicrous conservative propaganda that lacks empirical evidence or any basis in scientific fact is high on the list of stuff not worthy of being printed. I generally like philosophical treatises overall; I’m not too fond of autobiographies, though, they’re usually self-aggrandizing and when written by a tyrant, full of justifications for the unjustifiable things they’ve done.”

                “I think my favourite novels are the Shannara Saga, by Terry Brooks,” Amara offered, “My favourite out of all of those being I think the Elf Queen of Shannara, but they were all pretty spectacular. I think the literature I dislike the most would probably have to be the Twilight novels. Fantasy is the best genre, in my opinion; I don’t like the true crime novels, though, they’re just always so sad.”

                “We’re on the same page, omega, about favourite stories; I think I can safely say we both love everything in Mercedes Lackey’s Valdemar Saga,” Edmund opined, “Lyle and I like to read together, it’s our favourite way to spend our time. I think our mutual favourite story in it was Take A Thief, though; standalone story about a young man named Skif, who is just hilarious and adorable. I think fantasy’s our overall favourite, too.”

                “Naturally, since we like to read together we don’t like being interrupted _while_ we’re reading,” added Lyle, “our least favourite literature is probably the rampant homophobia and attempt to justify homophobia with ludicrous religious excuses or other farcical absurdities. I think we could be fairly described as hating _any_ writing that attempts to justify discriminative behaviour, but we have a special resentment for LGBT-bashing ‘literature,’ if you would want to insult every legitimate author in history by calling it literature, and the authors who write it. I would have to say the only TYPE of story we _don’t_ like reading, is probably just anything overtly religious.”

                “Alex and I pretty much hate anything that should qualify as an attempt at propagandistically driving people back to unenlightened ways of thinking. The world’s been moving more or less in a good direction; the emancipation of slaves and the abolition of lawful nonconsensual slavery, the successes of the feminist movement, the slow end of institutionalized homophobia,” William opined contemplatively, “the eventual federal acknowledgment of marriage rights for same-gender couples. It offends me that there are still those who want to drive us back to an unenlightened and draconian age of oppression, subjugation, and marginalization.”

                “Our favourite thing to read is probably military histories, though; it’s just something we were brought up in so we kind of got used to reading them,” Alex added smoothly when his twin had finished, “If I had to say we had a favourite, it’s actually surprisingly a relatively recent one. A biography on Napoléon by a man named Michael Broers, titled _Napoleon: Soldier of Destiny_ ; it’s extraordinarily well-written with nigh unimpeachable accuracy to the truth of the life of the man.”

                “I think my favourite stories to read, as weird as it might be, are those silly romance novels. Sexuality is just fascinatingly foreign to me. I like the romantic aspects, but I really read it for the sex content, because of how intriguing sexuality is to me, as someone who doesn’t have any. I think my favourite is _Bet Me_ , a story written by author Jennifer Crusie; I kind of go online and look for well-reviewed romance novels, and I found out that one of my favourite authors in the genre, Bella Andre, is herself a big fan of this book. So, naturally, I had to read it,” Cass opined, having been deep in thought throughout the conversation until now, “I don’t like tragedies, though, I won’t read those, and I won’t read horror novels, either. I think my least favourite author has to be Guy Newman Smith, I absolutely will not read anything by him after a friend convinced me to try out his writing; I had to smack that friend of mine for making such a recommendation, since he knew better than to think I’d like it.”

                “I actually enjoy horror novels, I think my favourite one was Robert Louis Stevenson’s _Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde_ ,” Helle opined, “I especially like reading them in the dark, with only a minimum of light available, for immersion purposes. On the other end of the spectrum, though, I have found that I can never get into westerns or tall tales. I don’t think there is any book that I really hate, but I would say that _Aces and Eights_ by Loren D. Estleman is my least favourite: it’s the only western fiction novel I’ve ever read that I actually liked while I was reading it and I still liked when I was done reading it.”

                “Personally, my favourite books are Tara K. Harper’s Wolfwalker Saga,” Hildegarde offered, then continued, “I know, I know, it’s kind of corny, a werewolf liking such stories, but her stories have nothing to do with werewolves and I found them really interesting. Fantasy in general is something I love; I’m not fond of survivalist fiction or black comedy, I’ve never really thought morbid things were great material for jokes. I don’t think I have a single book that I could name the title of, I just don’t like _anything_ that could be described as black comedy or as a Robinsonade, even though I did read Robinson Crusoe and found it interesting.”

                “I think my favourite novel has to be _Becoming Batman_ , published in 2,019; it’s sort of a crossover between comic books, graphic novels, and romance novels. It’s about a transgendered boy named Brynn Wayne and his young transgendered best friend Seth Kyle, their childhood and their gender transitions, and the budding of an eventual love between them. It tells the tale of how Brynn Wayne grows up to become billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne, finishing his transition at the age of nineteen,” Akoko said, after a moment of silence when Hildegarde finished, “and realizing he’s fallen in love with his best friend, who finished her transition at eighteen and changed her name to Selina Kyle. It follows them as they become Batman and Catwoman, but doesn’t focus on that too much.”

                “As far as least favourite,” Akoko concluded, “I think the only things I really dislike intensely would have to be religious fiction and psychological horror. I absolutely hated the book _American Gothic_ , by Robert Bloch. Not that it was poorly written, or anything, I just hated it because it epitomizes everything I dislike about psychological horror.”

                “My tastes are pretty simple. I love the steampunk genre, and I hate dystopian novels,” Valentin added shortly after finishing his breakfast, “I don’t think I necessarily _have_ a least favourite. I would put The Anubis Gates by Tim Powers, though, as definitely one of the stories I liked.”

                “I think it would be a tossup between Orson Scott Card’s Ender Quintet and Frank Herbert’s Dune Chronicles for me, in terms of favourite books; I love space operas in general,” Shawn supplied, thoughtfully, “I don’t like alien invasion stories, though. I think the one I would call the absolute worst out of all of it is Michael Crichton’s novel, the Andromeda Strain, even though Crichton was a great novelist. On the other hand, there is one single novel in the entire alien invasion subgenre that I like: The Word for World is Forest, by Ursula K. Le Guin.” When Shawn finished, their eyes turned to Aristos and Marcel, who had yet to throw their two cents into the pot as they listened to everyone else.

                “I dislike thrillers in general,” Aristos opined, in his typically rugged Spartan voice, “especially the political thrillers like Graham Greene’s The Quiet American or legal thrillers in general, though Harper Lee’s novel To Kill A Mockingbird was admittedly rather phenomenal, and John Grisham’s The Pelican Brief wasn’t bad, either. I don’t like the genre overall, but I’d probably actually call those two my favourite books, genre notwithstanding. You’ll probably find this surprising, but my favourite story genres are bara and yaoi, even though I’m bisexual and primarily interested in women. As for least favourite book, I’d have to say anything James Bond is boring as hell and painfully predictable besides; it really amounts to ‘dude saves the world and gets laid,’ and that’s the whole story right there.”

                “I know it might be a little stereotypical, but my favourite stories have always been the romantic comedies,” Marcel put in at last, “I especially loved the one you mentioned by Jennifer Crusie, Cass, and I really like them when they focus on two guys, though I haven’t found one of those yet that I could call my absolute favourite. I don’t really like mystery novels or things that have a big focus on suspense, though; I don’t really have any one particular book in mind, there, I just don’t like mysteries or the feeling of being held in suspense that much.”

                “I think that’s natural and understandable, though,” Josh opined with a nod, “It can be hard to pick a favourite book; I’ve read the Shannara and Valdemar Sagas. I have honestly loved every single book in both, but for me, it was how the main character of the Last Herald-Mage Trilogy was openly gay that made me pick that as my favourite.”

                “Say, omega, would you be willing to join Alex and me outside for a bit?” asked William, “We were thinking about going out and lying in the sun for a bit this morning, before it gets too hot. It’d be nice to have the companionship of our omega for a little while.” He could tell they wanted a morning tryst, and he smiled as he stood up and stretched his muscles, nodding with a bit of a smile for them both.

                “Sure, a little pleasure before work sounds like a nice way to work off a good breakfast,” Josh replied, with the twins grinning at him enthusiastically as their omega winked farewell to their alpha for a little bit, heading outside through the main exit.

                It was a warm, beautiful day in late July, the sun shining and a cool breeze wafting through the trees as they moved a little bit nearer to the main road, but away from the dirt path to the den’s entrance.

                “There is a grassy clearing on this side of the road which we prefer, that moon-glade’s all well and good, but we prefer not to get sand in our butts,” Alex said, as they emerged through the trees into a very small clearing. It was really only large enough for maybe a half-dozen people to lay in the grass comfortably, and the twins shed their clothes rapidly, quickly revealing their already erect, eight-and-a-half-inch phallic muscles. Josh smiled as he slid out of his own garments, hanging them on branches to protect them from becoming too dirty while the three of them … ‘played.’

                Josh proceeded over to where the twins were standing, lowering onto his knees and bringing his mouth swiftly to the shaft of Alex’s rod, tongue extending to lick slowly from the base to the velvety head. For several seconds, the kneeling omega lavished attention on Alex’s rod while one hand slid slowly up each twin’s outer thigh, to cup the far hip. As his hands reached their hips, Josh switched his attention for several seconds over to William’s phallic muscle, licking numerous times before returning to Alex’s with a combination of licking and kissing. Each of the twins soon tangled one hand into his hair, and as he switched from William’s cock back to Alex’s again, they pulled down on his hair, pulling his mouth onto Alex’s rod. Josh moaned gently, encouragingly, sending pleasurable vibrations into Alex’s length and spiking the standing male’s arousal enough that he started to move his hips, gently sliding himself into the kneeling brunette’s mouth to the hilt. He pulled out slowly, then gradually drove back to the hilt again, fucking Josh’s mouth at a languid, relaxed pace, allowing Josh to suck hard on that steel-solid length even as it was gliding down his throat. Josh held his breath each time it pushed into his throat, exhaling and taking a new breath as his throat was then vacated, before the twins pulled his head to William’s cock, which he started to suck as soon as the plush head slipped through his lips.

                Like his twin, William rode Josh’s mouth slowly, steadily, and after only some ten thrusts, the boys switched Josh’s mouth back to Alex’s prick. If sharing were an Olympic event, the twins would’ve been gold medalists every year without exception, Josh observed, as Alex’s length slid through his lips once more and he resumed sucking on it, enthusiastically. He could sense the emanations of empathic desire, could smell the clear scent of burgeoning arousal pheromones in the air, as the twins shared his mouth, alternating which length slid down his throat as they both grew nearer and nearer to release. Finally, as both of them teetered on the edge of release, Alex slid over the edge as he let his seed surge into Josh’s lower throat as his nuts slid into the kneeling omega’s open mouth. He swallowed around it encouragingly, all the way until his throat squeezed the last drops from Alex’s length, and then he felt Alex withdraw. A heartbeat later, William’s plush tip slid through his lips and a second load of seed surged out, this one on his tongue, which he swallowed enthusiastically. He took it to the hilt when William’s release slowed, squeezing the last of it out with the muscles of his throat, as well, before William withdrew and both older males moved to sprawl out comfortably on their backs in the grass.

                The still-erect phallus of each stood almost vertical in their new positions, and Josh lowered onto his knees over Alex, his self-lubricating properties preparing him as he pressed his palms onto Alex’s chest and lowered his ass onto that cock. His fingers curled against the yellow-haired male’s chest and his spine arched, as he slid smoothly into position, feeling Alex’s length sliding to the hilt inside of him. Underneath him, the blond groaned softly in pleasure, hands rising to cup Josh’s rump, squeezing firmly as the pack’s omega started to roll his hips, riding him aggressively. A low growl of arousal rumbled out of Josh’s throat as he moved his hips firmly, muscles contracting around Alex’s phallic muscle as he rose off it, then relaxing as he slid down onto him once more. He slowly increased his pace as he remained mounted atop Alex’s length, fucking harder and faster on that impressive eight-and-a-half-inch slab of cock. Beneath him, the blond closed his eyes and started to arch his hips lightly, rising into Josh’s hips each time they came down on his shaft, with a soft, rumbling growl of pleasure from his lips. Even as Josh rode him, he noticed William’s hand moving to his own cock, stroking himself as he watched the pack’s bitch riding his twin, keeping himself as hard as a stone for Josh’s enjoyment in the very near future.

                When Alex’s rod started to pulse hard inside of him, several minutes later, Josh brought his hips down onto it hard and fast. Their hips collided with a light thump and an arching groan from Alex as his release surged inside the omega, seed sweeping up into him out of the phallic fountain buried to the hilt in his rump at that moment. When that pulsing subsided, Josh contracted his muscles and pulled every ounce out of Alex’s length, then switched smoothly to straddling Will’s hips. He slid down on it just above William’s hand as the second twin was on a down-stroke, feeling the blond’s fingers wrap around his nuts as Josh rested his hips against that hand and almost flattened it between them. His fingers curled now against William’s pectoral muscles, hips beginning to move up and down rapidly, sliding his balls free of William’s hand as the blond moved both hands to his ass. As his hips rose, William’s hands twitched and slapped his cheeks hard, causing his body to rise faster before sinking back down onto him, where hands clutched his rump tightly once more. Feral, wolven growls of arousal and excitement rumbled out of his throat as William spanked his rump as he rose off that cock again, moving into a rhythm fast and hard, his own cock rock hard, gleaming in the sunlight. Even as Josh continued to ride that hard length of phallic muscle, William’s timing grew better as he began to synchronize himself with his omega’s movements, hands flicking to spank hard at just the second when Josh started to lift his hips.

                “You keep doing that,” Josh growled lustfully, “and you’re going to be a bit of a mess when I finish.” William merely smiled at the warning; all three of them could smell the overpowering scent of the young omega’s pheromones of sexual excitement and burgeoning release. His own release rapidly approaching a critical point, Josh moved harder and faster on William’s steel-hard length, closing his eyes and growling with lupine arousal as he restrained himself. As he felt the phallic rod inside of him starting to pulse violently, he thrust himself down on it hard, fingers curling to the point that his nails travelled down William’s chest for several inches as he released, as well. Even as Will arched his back in response to the unexpected, feral scratches, his seed coursed forcefully into Josh’s rump as streams of fresh white rose into the air before coming down on William’s chest. Josh’s seed came down in thick lines, striping Will’s moderately tanned chest with red lines and white, a loud, carnal snarl of arousal and gratification rising out of Josh’s lungs. It was loud and intimidating enough that it caused all birds within a hundred feet to startle from their perches into the air, chirping, squawking, and cawing, as they rose and scattered. As Josh relaxed, William’s hand slid around his length, squeezing the last drops of it to the tip and then angling his rod down to wipe that off just below his navel as the omega’s hips lifted off his shaft.

                “You weren’t kidding about the mess,” Will commented as he observed the copious volume of Josh’s release striping him from just above his nipples all the way down to his hips. However, Josh leaned down and cleaned William with several long licks, unmindful of the act of licking up his own release in as sensuous a manner as possible, keeping eye contact with William as he did so. Then, he slipped back and returned to his clothes, looking over his shoulder at the twins with a wink and a smile as he dressed.

                “Now, I have to go _interview_ that _commander_ you-all captured,” Josh said before returning to the wolf-den, the ramp opening as he approached, and descended quickly inside. He headed first to change his clothes before going to the cellblock, met there by Zuleika, Cass, and Valentin; Josh felt like some level of illusion would be important to this conversation.

                As the door opened, the sound of quick shuffling filled the air, the scent of human pheromones of irritation, apprehension, and fear, mingled with the empathic emanations of agitation and confusion.

                “Let me out of this cell at once! Who are you?” demanded the commander, a man of six foot two inches and two hundred twenty-eight pounds, light-skinned and in his late twenties if Josh had to hazard a guess. He had jet-black hair and eyes of a bluish-grey colour, he’d been stripped of his gear while unconscious and redressed in simple black wool in the form of a shirt and pants, though he’d been allowed to keep his socks and combat boots. They had naturally been examined thoroughly and checked for any potential of concealed weapons, but when that was discovered absent, they’d been returned to him when he was redressed while still unconscious.

                “You have no idea who you’re dealing with, kid,” the man growled angrily as he saw Josh, and deduced from the behaviour of the androgynous person and the short male that he was in charge of this situation. Josh, himself, had dressed in black formalwear, a palpable illusion the other three mirrored in an attempt to give the impression that they were operatives of the country’s Defense Intelligence Agency. The DIA was the homeland counterpart to the CIA and given that Hunters were neither stupid nor incompetent, the distinction was an important one.

                “Oh, really, is that so? Well, then, why don’t you enlighten me,” challenged Josh.

                “Look. I know this is going to sound a little crazy, but I am a commander in a secret organization tasked with the elimination of monstrous abominations who are able to assume the disguise of a human form,” said the commander in answer to the challenge. He realized, perhaps, that condescending the person in charge was probably a poor way to go about attempting to secure his release.

                “You’re wrong; it sounds _more_ than a _little_ crazy, you’re talking about the supposed existence of nonhumans, and we at the Agency do not commonly entertain such mental delusions,” replied Josh in a calm, cool voice, “However, these are… _uncommon_ circumstances. I will allow you an opportunity to convince me that you are not delusional. Tell me your name, commander, and the name of your _organization_.”

                “I am Kristoff Kalenofske; I am an officer of a unit called the Necropolis Corps, from an organization known as the Hunter’s Soldiery. We’ve been around for two thousand nine years, and the unit I am in is tasked with hunting and eliminating the… well…”

                “ _Yes?_ ” Josh prompted, with feigned impatience.

                “The undead,” supplied the commander after a moment, “specifically those undead with a physical body. It’s our job to eliminate zombies, revenants, and mummies. I know it sounds crazy, but all three of those are very much a reality, as are wraiths and ghosts, but those aren’t the responsibility of the branch I’m in.”

                “Aha,” Josh replied skeptically, “and which… branch, was it? Which _branch_ is responsible for attempting to hunt down and eliminate these so-called wraiths and ghosts?”

                “Shadow Front,” supplied Kristoff with a sigh of exasperation at the sensation of feeling unbelieved, “look I know how it sounds, and I never believed in these things, either, until I had a face-to-face encounter with them, that’s what we were doing in the woods. We were there tracking a unit of zombie commandoes, but they ambushed us, and killed my entire unit; I lost consciousness at some point, I don’t know why.”

                “I see, and how many personnel does this _Necropolis Corps_ of yours have in it?”

                “I’m just a commander, so I don’t have access to all of the documentation or anything, but I think it is around one and a half million people, worldwide. My unit was specifically trained for the engagement of zombies; one third of the Necropolis Corps is tasked with the express objective of the termination of zombies,” Kristoff supplied, “There is another taskforce whose objective is eliminating revenants, and the last third is tasked with eliminating mummies.”

                “I see, and does your _Necropolis Corps_ have a list of suspected zombies, revenants, and mummies, or a total count as to how many your high command believes exist in the world?”

                “Yes. We believed there are about one hundred thousand zombies, four thousand revenants, and one thousand mummies,” replied the commander, in an attempt to be cooperative with the perceived government agents.

                _Your choice of palpable illusion seems effective, Josh,_ Zuleika conveyed telepathically, _He is convinced that we are a DIA ops team. He doesn’t seem to know a whole lot about the DIA, and hasn’t had any specific training that would allow him to recognize DIA agents._

_Excellent_ , Josh thought in response.

                _Also, we seem to be highly fortunate; the Necropolis Corps’ numbers are extraordinarily inaccurate. Zombies alone number a little over two million worldwide; revenants and fellow mummies are also exponentially more common than they think, also._

                “And your reason for being in the Birmingham area is what, precisely?”

                “Zombie-hunting,” he supplied at once; “we received reports of a considerable volume of zombies hiding out in this part of the country. We were sent to track down and eliminate the monsters before their numbers reached critical mass; we have evidence that when a certain number of zombies accumulate in an area, mass killings of the living will commence.”

                _He’s lying, and he’s aware he’s lying; he’s attempting to mislead a DIA operative,_ Zuleika supplied mentally, _he’s never seen any evidence to support that statement._

                “Are you aware that attempting to mislead the Agency is a felonious offense, Mister Kalenofske?” came the response to the commander’s statement. Josh sensed an empathic pulse similar to a wince, though his facial features made no indication thereof.

                “I am aware of that, yes. I assure you I am telling the truth,” came the commander’s response.

                “And how many of you… _Hunters_ , was it?” Josh started, and Kristoff nodded, then the omega went on, “How many of you are in the Birmingham area, now?”

                “… a lot,” the commander replied cryptically, with some hesitation.

                “You are going to need to be more specific than that if you want me to believe your story, Mister Kalenofske,” Josh replied, “I simply cannot even begin to consider your story believable much less consider releasing you, if you’re going to be evasive with me.”

                “… with the death of my unit at the hands of the zombies that ambushed us, I would say the division that was sent is likely down to fourteen thousand six hundred and seventy-six personnel,” the commander replied, “six hundred seventy-five personnel, if you decide you don’t believe me.”

                “At this time, Mister Kalenofske, I must say that I find your entire statement deeply incredible, and somewhat disturbing,” Josh replied, “I mean, you have to admit that this sounds _beyond_ farfetched. The idea that right this minute reanimated cadavers are wandering around the country, brutally savaging the poor, innocent living folk and nobody’s even noticing that it’s happening? It sounds sort of like the plotline of Night of the Living Dead or Mortuary, frankly.”

                “I know it sounds like a horror film, but it’s _real_ , zombies exist, and the organization I work for, we’ve been working for two thousand years to track down and destroy the monsters before their condition can be spread. We have reason to believe their condition is infectious,” the commander replied urgently.

                _Of course, their main reason is horror films in the zombie subgenre,_ Zuleika observed telepathically.

                “Aha, and this Hunter’s Soldiery of yours, where does it come by its’ funding? It must take a massive amount of capital to fund over one million personnel just in your _branch_ of it.”

                “I don’t really know,” he replied, his words coming with an empathic pulse of honesty; he was just an officer in the relatively lower ranks, he wasn’t about to get information like that anytime soon.

                “Who makes the decisions about where personnel are sent, which sites your Hunters will attack in this area during your assignment?”

                “Necropolis Corps Field Marshal Karl Rommilt; he is responsible for all final decisions on any major attack vector,” the commander replied cooperatively, “albeit the suggestion comes from Lieutenant Colonel Jonathon Klaus, who in turn passes that suggestion to Brigadier General Grace Hubricht. Once she’s reviewed the proposal and decided if it has merit, she passes it up to Field Marshal Rommilt for final tactical analysis.”

                “I see, and this Lieutenant Colonel is your immediate local commanding officer?”

                “Yes. So surely now you see that you must release me so that I can continue to protect humankind from these shambling dead,” the commander said, albeit his tone of voice made it more question than statement. Josh turned his head a little bit, putting his hand on his ear and feigning a listening expression, then nodding to himself in response to an imagined statement.

                “Got it; thank you,” Josh said to none in particular, then returned his attention toward the commander, “I’m sorry, Mister Kalenofske, but there is no documentation to support even the existence of this Mister Rommilt, Mister Klaus, or Miss Hubricht. If such persons exist and are in the United States, they must be here unlawfully, and we can’t verify even that you exist, Mister Kalenofske, if that is your real name, or that you entered the country legally, yourself, if you weren’t born here. I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do for you, Mister Kalenofske, if you aren’t going to give us something we can use, something we can track to verify your statements.” He wasn’t about to let the Hunter know his information had already been exceptionally helpful, or that there was no chance of him being released.

                “Figures,” Mister Kalenofske sighed a bit, “Join a secret organization that’s so secret I can’t prove it exists.” He slumped back down onto the seat of his cell as they left, emanating empathic despondence, primarily at the fact he would no longer be able to aid the Hunter’s Soldiery in what he perceived as a ‘heroic task.’

                Once the door of the cellblock was shut, Cass nodded once.

                “I will go let Edmund know to send a communication to the Dead Congress to let them know we’ve caught another of the extremists alive and able to be put on trial. I will also see to it our new information is all properly transcribed,” zie said promptly, “and I will see copies of the recordings and transcripts are sent to the all elements of the Masquerade Council.” Josh nodded, and Cass promptly departed to the task, while Josh and the rest stopped in the central hall to share the information they had gleaned, and to let everyone in the den start to process it and determine the best way to proceed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has continued to read the story of Josh Colcord. I am honoured & flattered by the reception these stories have received. If you have any questions, comments, observations, impressions, or polite critiques to offer, please feel free to use the comments section below, whether it's about the story overall, the setting, any specific character in particular, or just let me know how you're liking the story so far, favourite thing about the story or if there's just something about the story that's bothering you let me know about that, too.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The continuing story of the omega, Josh Colcord, and his alpha, Henri Barre, as their pack confronts the multitude of the Necropolis Corps, the Hunter's Soldiery's slayers of the undead.

                For several days, there was peace and silence in Birmingham and the surrounding environs, the days rolling by uneventfully following the ambush. On the morning of the third day of August, a Thursday which meteorological predictions suggested as having a high likelihood of being lovely in terms of both temperature and humidity, Edmund ascended the stairs into the central hall.

                “Alpha, omega, we have received three communications; one of which seems to be rather urgent,” stated the redhead informatively, as he approached, “A message from Bella Avelarde, requesting a meeting as soon as possible, crisis code yellow; reason: Hunter communiqué intercepted.”

                “Did she indicate a specific location to meet?” was Josh’s only query.

                “Her apartment,” Edmund replied; “Also, two additional clan members have sent pack member applications. A Keeper-trained Wolf named _Gedeon Vennesland_ , and a Warden-trained Wolf named _Melanie Henness_ ; I’ve made a printout of each application, for you. Here you are alpha, omega.”

                “Thank you, Edmund,” Henri said with a nod. Edmund nodded in answer, before heading off to rendezvous with Lyle for some private bonding time.

                “Well, let’s look over these applications,” Josh said, and Henri nodded, heading to the relative privacy of the dining room, lying the papers out on the tabletop for mutual review.

 

                _Gedeon Vennesland, re: Joining Barre-Colcord Pack_

_Therian Age: 204_

_Combat Talents:_

_I am ranked as a Level 4 Staff-wielder by chief polearm instructor David Familetto._

_I have an accuracy rating of 97.2% with single-wield handgun, 98.13% with dual-wield handgun._

_Mission Talents:_

_I am a trained clothier and experienced weaver, and adept at mending nonmetallic tactical gear._

_Domestic Talents:_

_I am able to adroitly mend any garments when provided the proper resources for mending, and if I have the necessary materials, I can produce new items of clothing within a relatively short span of time._

_Additional Notes:_

_I am asexual; I am unoffended by sexual activities being engaged in my presence, but would prefer no sexual activity to occur in my personal bedchamber._

_I am a Little Person, my height is 3 feet 4 inches; I doubt this is exceptionally relevant, but felt that to avoid startling or alarming if my application is accepted, it would be best to make mention of that fact._

_I was previously associated with another pack, which has since disbanded due to Eldership of alpha and omega, in the role of Keeper, and my Keeper training remains current._

 

 

_Melanie Henness, re: Joining Barre-Colcord Pack_

_Therian Age: 304_

_Combat Talents:_

_I am an experienced master in kickboxing, boxing, and in the Drunken Monkey style of Kung Fu._

_I have an accuracy rating of 87.84% in single-wield handgun, 97.99% with rifle._

_Mission Talents:_

_I am an experienced gunsmith and engineer, and can readily repair damaged firearms._

_Domestic Talents:_

_I am excellent at cleaning outdoor environments to minimize fire risk without revealing the presence of sapient lifeforms in the vicinity._

_Additional Notes:_

_I was previously associated with the Tamassia-Kanarelli pack, in the role of Warden. I am current in my Warden Specialization training, but in consideration of my extensive skill in hand-to-hand combat, I am likewise comfortable being sent on missions in a support role._

_I am a lesbian, previously intimately associated with Bitch Amara Senne; I make no secret that her presence in the pack is a primary reason for my application. If you feel it necessary to confer with her about how she would feel about having me in the same pack, please do not hesitate to inquire with her on it._

_I am an avid painter, and if my application is accepted, I would bring my easel, canvases, and varied painting supplies with me, to continue painting in my free time._

 

                “Amara, could you come in here please?” called Henri, and the door opened immediately as the black-haired bitch stepped in, nude and with her hair moist, suggesting she’d just been drying off from a shower Henri called her.

                “Yes, alpha?” she replied deferentially.

                “Amara, do you know anyone named Melanie?” asked Josh.

                “Yes, Melanie Henness, another wolf; she was one of my most frequent partners at the fortress before I sent my application to join the pack,” Amara replied readily, “She was the first female I ever tended to, I spent the entire span of my juvenile phase tending her needs on a regular basis. Melanie was really fond of me, and she demonstrated her appreciation pretty readily, too.”

                “So you wouldn’t mind seeing her again, then?” came the question from Henri, and Amara shook her head.

                “Nope; it would be nice to have that familiar connection around, I think,” Amara replied, and Henri nodded.

                “All right,” said Henri, standing and stretching his muscles as he took the two applications, “that settles that, then, I think. Right, love?”

                “Yep, I think both of them will be great additions,” Josh replied, and Henri nodded, moving out of the dining room to send a personal acceptance e-mail to each of them. As he left, Josh’s eyes returned to Amara, and he smiled encouragingly.

                “You look good. Have you been settling in well?”

                “Oh, yes, absolutely. I have already had a chance to attend to Lyle and Edmund, and Helle, they’ve been very sweet. Valentin politely declined, out of respect for my limit on sadomasochistic play, and Akoko says she won’t need me at all because you’re her preference. Hildegarde mentioned she wanted some time with me this afternoon, kind of looking forward to that; never been with a woman like her before, it should be interesting.”

                “Oh, yeah, Hildegarde is _definitely_ an interesting lover,” Josh agreed, “lots of fun, though, and wonderfully considerate. You can feel safe with her, she won’t do anything to push your buttons as long as you make sure that she knows what the buttons are there shouldn’t be pressed.”

                “I am glad to hear that,” Amara admitted forthrightly, “I must confess I haven’t ever gotten close to a male bitch, before, as far as actually getting to know any. I’m looking to getting to know you, omega.”

                “I look forward to learning more about you, as well, Amara,” Josh said agreeably, with a warm smile.

                “So, will you be requiring my services, too, or?”

                “Probably not, to be honest,” Josh answered truthfully, rolling his shoulders a bit, “I usually like giving more than receiving, and prefer to be on the bottom, as they say.”

                “That’s understandable,” Amara replied agreeably, “it is nice to be in the field, though. I spent decades at the fortress getting ready for this.”

                “Kind of makes me wonder how I’ll feel about all of this in twenty years; I am literally only twenty-one years old, turning twenty-two on the seventh,” Josh said in response, and Amara nodded; “You really feel your youth when everyone around you is minimum of like thirty years older than you.” Amara chuckled a little in answer, nodding once more in agreement with the statement.

                “Yeah, I felt like an _absolute_ child when my sire brought me into the fortress and I started meeting folks that were like over a thousand years old or even Elders,” Amara concurred readily, as the door opened and Valentin stepped in quietly, smiling politely.

                “Am I interrupting?”

                “Not at all, Amara and I were just commiserating over the feeling of being a little kid compared to all of you old people,” Josh teased, and Valentin laughed heartily in answer.

                “Hey, I’m only three hundred and fifty!” replied Valentin, in a tone of feigned defensiveness, to which Josh’s shoulders rolled as a slow grin crept across his firm, plush lips.

                “Well, anyhow,” said Valentin, “If you’re not busy, omega, I’d love to have a little bit of private time with the pack’s primary bitch.”

                “All right, I’ll take that as my cue to excuse myself so you two can play,” Amara said, turning to slip out the door, as Valentin pulled his shirt off and tossed it over the chair he usually sat in. Josh slid his own clothes off, stacking them in a neatly folded column on the table in front of his usual seat, before turning his hair toward Valentin. As the pack’s chef and baker continued to undress, Josh sat back down and spread his thighs, allowing the compact wolf free sight of his body.

                “I’m feeling a little gentler and quieter than usual. Must be sort of an empathic influence as everyone’s been in a gentler and more sensuous mood lately,” Valentin offered as he stepped close to Josh, cupping his face with one hand and running his thumb softly across his fellow brunette’s lips, “throwing off my typically sadistic groove, if you want to call it that.”

                “So what are you in the mood for, today?”

                “I was thinking some scratching and biting, a bit of spanking perhaps, mainly oral, possibly some anal during the spanking part of it,” Valentin answered, “I was thinking I might give you a hand while I’m taking your ass, though.” It would constitute a new experience, Valentin hadn’t ever actually _stroked_ Josh’s prick while they shared their trysts, though he’d hit or squeezed his balls, infrequently.

                As Valentin stepped up to him, fingers slid into Josh’s hair and curled into a grip which was at once firm and yet not too firm, before his cock slid smoothly through the other brunette’s lips. Josh tightened his lips around it as he let it slide to the hilt, until all seven inches were in his mouth and just the tip in his throat, before beginning to suck it firmly, moaning gently to provide Valentin with pleasurable vibrations. The shorter wolf pulled him forward carefully, until Josh’s rump slid smoothly across the plane of the seat and off it, allowing him to slide down to a position to his hands and knees. His length slid back as his hips withdrew, then pushed in slowly but steadily once more, pushed until his nuts pressed against Josh’s plush, warm lips. Josh continued to suck as Valentin slid his hands from his hair down to his shoulders, bending forward a bit until his fingers touched the small of his back.

                Josh arched his back as he felt Valentin’s hands sliding sensuously down his back, closing his eyes while he continued to suck firmly. He took a breath as Valentin’s hips pulled back at the same time as he felt Valentin’s fingers curling until his nails touched the youthful omega’s skin. His back arched more sharply as Valentin drew his nails up his back forcefully, leaving four deep red lines up his back to either side of his spinal column. A faint moan of pleasure rolled up out of his lungs to vibrate Valentin’s cock sensuously in his mouth as he continued to suck, rolling his tongue around the length affectionately. Even as the shorter wolf moved his hips consistently, steady in pace, force, and depth, his fingers slid slowly, feather-lightly, down to his ass. Josh arched and moaned loudly around that cock as Valentin brought one hand down onto his rump with a loud clap, then the other on the opposite side. His spine arched sharply, his volume increased enough that the vibrations of his moan resonated all the way to Valentin’s nuts, and the shorter wolf growled softly in pleasure and arousal.

                Josh’s nostrils were filled with the scent of Valentin’s arousal, while the pleasurable flavour of the other wolf glazed his taste buds with a sweet, delectable musk. The standing brunette’s hands rose and fell again, two successive loud claps and the answering moan of pleasure from Josh as the youthful omega swayed his hips to move his lips on Valentin’s cock as the other wolf spanked harder. Bright redness formed on the cheeks of Josh’s rump as he continued to sway hard on the older brunette’s rod, sucking hard and moaning almost continuously as Valentin worked his way up to powerful, hammering slaps with his hands. He could smell and taste the burgeoning arousal of his pack-member in his nostrils and on his tongue as he sucked hard, arching and fucking his mouth hard on that cock, feeling the faint hint of a pulse in the shorter wolf’s phallic muscle. After seventy hard slaps to each cheek, Valentin’s fingernails dug bright red lines up Josh’s back from his hips to his shoulders, leaving shallow welts, which Josh answered with a loud growl of arousal as the other brunette’s fingers tangled into his hair.

                Valentin’s hips slid back then slammed in hard as the short, brown-haired wolf started to fuck Josh’s mouth fast and hard. For more than a minute, his cock hammered into the bitch’s mouth before forcing his nuts into the warm chamber and lodging his pulsing prick inside Josh’s throat, completely. Josh swallowed hard around it, sucking on his nuts submissively as he used his throat muscles to stroke Valentin’s rod from base to tip until he felt the shorter wolf’s jizz surging out into his throat. His swallowing carried it immediately into his stomach, as Valentin arched his hips as he held Josh’s head against himself, a low growl of gratification rolling out of his lungs as he did. After a little more than a minute, he groaned and slowly pulled out of Josh’s mouth, before he moved to the seat pulling Josh around and up off his hands. He drew Josh up into his arms, and the youthful omega felt Valentin’s length slide into the channel of his self-lubricated rump, with a faint arch of pleasure.

                “You like that, huh?” whispered Valentin as he pulled Josh’s back against his chest, arms sliding around Josh to press his palms against his upper pectoral muscles. He curled his fingers before opening his mouth and biting down firmly on the younger brunette’s left shoulder, soliciting from the brown-haired omega a low masochistic whimper of pleasure. As Valentin started to drag his nails down Josh’s chest, leaving bright red lines and shallow welts from his scratches, that whimper escalated and loudened into a deep growl of arousal as his hips started to move, riding Valentin in slow, hard strokes. His muscles contracted around Valentin’s cock as he rose, then relaxed as he sank onto his shaft once more, and felt the vibration of the older brunette’s moans in his shoulder.

                As his hands descended, Josh felt one hand straighten out into the smooth caress of a palm as he moved down to the young omega’s prick. The younger brunette arched with a soft growl of pleasure, as Valentin’s fingers wrapped around his balls and cupped them for a moment while his other hand slid up his chest once more. Even as Valentin’s right hand began to scratch fresh lines down Josh’s chest, the eternal eighteen-year-old felt his fingers tightening until he gently massaged his nuts. He bit his lower lip with a soft whimper of pleasure and arousal as he arched, hips rising and falling on Valentin’s prick as fingernails cut down his torso. Josh arched submissively as the shorter brunette slid his hand up from his nuts to wrap his fingers around his cock and began stroking the younger, better-endowed male’s length. Valentin squeezed firmly but not painfully tightly as he stroked Josh’s phallic muscle while the brown-haired younger wolf’s tight ass rose and fell on his rod. Josh’s nostrils filled with the mingling scents of their mutual arousal-pheromones, a low growl of arousal rumbling up from his lungs in answer. The younger brunette was arching himself, rising and lowering urgently as Valentin’s arousal continued to grow alongside of his omega’s own.

                “Nng, grr,” growled the older brunette as he continued to bite firmly into Josh’s shoulder, taking a breath in through his nose before he finally released, leaving a deep indentation in the skin, “Fuck… you know, this feels pretty phenomenal.” He moved his head, opening his mouth and biting down hard on the other nape of Josh’s neck, growling low in arousal as he began to buck his hips aggressively up into Josh’s rump. He felt himself starting to pulse harder, harder, until Josh felt the older male’s seed surging up into his ass while his hand continued to handle his cock firmly, sensuously, until the young omega felt himself pulsing in Valentin’s hand. Josh groaned as he felt Valentin’s strong jaws relaxing from their forceful bite, breath passing over his moistened, bite-indented skin as the older, shorter wolf prepared to speak again.

                “Do it, come on,” urged Valentin, holding Josh’s hips firmly, his own cock pressed to the hilt in the curvature of the young omega’s pert, firmly-muscled rump. His other hand continued to move over the length of Josh’s phallic muscle, up and down in smooth strokes, and the young omega arched with a growl of pleasure as Valentin’s teeth still sank firmly into one nape of his neck.

                “Don’t worry, I have an idea for how to make sure if you make a mess it won’t be a problem,” Josh heard his trysting-partner assure him smoothly, his cock continuing to pulse hard in Valentin’s hand. He arched more urgently against Valentin as his cock pulsed harder, growling loudly in pleasure as he released a potent surge of his seed painted the immaculate surface of the hardwood floor in stripes of milky white. Strong, short fingers squeezed the last drops of his release from his phallic muscle to the tip, wiping smoothly before bringing his forefinger to Josh’s open mouth and wiping his fingertip off on his omega’s lower lip.

                “Swallow it,” Valentin urged, his cock pulsing with continued arousal as Josh swallowed his own release as the shorter wolf commanded. He slid down off the chair into a kneeling position, drawing Josh down as he did, before getting a firm grip of Josh’s hair and pushing him down toward the floor.

                “Lick it up,” Valentin ordered, pushing Josh’s face toward the hardwood planks, “lick it up, or I’ll mop it up with your hair instead.” Josh shivered in arousal at Valentin’s unorthodoxly Dominant demeanour, tongue extending to lick his release from the otherwise pristine hardwood, one stripe after the next until the floor was clean once more. The younger brunette arched and groaned as Valentin pulled back, sliding his prick free of the other male’s rump and gave him another sharp smack on each cheek of his ass before he pulled Josh’s hair. Josh allowed himself to be pulled up into a standing kneel in front of Valentin as the other knelt behind him, then felt Valentin’s hands sliding around, under his arms, pulling him up as he stood.

                “Thank you, omega, that was fantastic,” Valentin said appreciatively, “New, but fantastic.”

                “Mm-hmm,” Josh agreed good-naturedly, “lots of fun, glad I could help you out before my midday meeting.” Valentin grinned and embraced him appreciatively, then proceeded back to the kitchen.

                “Now I need to mop the floor again; call it OCD, I guess, I know you just licked it up, but a good mopping never hurt any dining room floor, either,” Valentin said, as he stepped through the doorway into the kitchen to collect the cleaning supplies. Meanwhile, Josh collected his clothes, returning to his room to get dressed in clothes that would be more suited to going out with a concealed firearm and a concealed blade.

                For several minutes, while Henri waited in the central hall, Josh mulled over his choices, before slipping into a pair of formfitting black boxer-briefs. He followed this with a pair of comfortable khaki pants, a pair of white-black-grey sneakers, and a plain tee of light blue, before putting on a buff-coloured duster of soft leather.

                Once his duster was straightened, he slid his handgun into a concealed holster inside the right side, and then went to the armoury. He collected a pair of double-bladed daggers, sheathing each one in one sleeve of the duster, in a concealed sheath, allowing him to have close-quarters weapons if they became necessary.

                “All set, love?” came Henri’s question as Josh stepped out of the armoury, to which the brunette nodded. A few minutes later, the dark Aventador slid out of the subterranean garage and onto the road, proceeding toward Bella’s residence in the Homewood suburb of Birmingham, on the city’s south side.

                Bella Avelarde’s home had every appearance of modesty, a single-story home in a modest suburb of the city. Her home was not in an outlying suburb like Hoover or Meadowbrook, nor was it downtown; it sat on a humble one and a half acres of land. It had a lush, deep green lawn and a neatly maintained sidewalk, all the way up to the modest front porch and the plain front door, and a white picket fence encircling the entire back yard but not the front. As they pulled in, the door of the attached garage opened, and closed behind them as Henri backed into the garage and parked, the door into the house itself opening with Bella standing there waiting.

                As the door opened, Josh’s nostrils filled with the scent that was uniquely hers, a fresh vanilla because of her personal soap and shampoo choices. She was dressed in a pair of capris of capri-blue denim, a plain white tee covering her upper body, plain white socks, and white sneakers. For the first time, Josh took a better look at her as he got out of his mate’s car, and found himself admiring her various physical features. She was the same height as he was, though she was a bit lighter and thinner than him, by what he would’ve estimated to be about twenty-five pounds or thereabout.

                Bella Avelarde had a round face, a widow’s peak and thin eyebrows similar to his own, and eyes of the same almond shape and dark green pigment as his own. He noticed with interest that her chin and ears were similar to his, as well, rounded and with the latter having attached lobes. As she smiled in greeting, teeth of perfect white shimmered in the light between pert lips that were neither unusually plump nor especially thin, below a celestial nose. She had a clip in her hair today, tanzanite-bejeweled white gold, making her hair attractively asymmetrical, and Her home, as they entered, was one kept in perfect order, the kitchen had the smell of cleanliness. The floor was of fine, textured tile that had the look of marble, though it was only a visual trait, complementing the white drywall of the home’s walls and ceiling.

                “Welcome to my home, thank you for coming. I’ve found some information that I think you needed to have, and I felt like it wouldn’t be safe to send it electronically,” Bella said, leading them out of the kitchen, and through a neat, well-kept living room. As they did, Bella paused when she noticed Josh looking around inquisitively, which she didn’t mind, and she smiled at him invitingly.

                “I try to live relatively modestly,” came the warm tenor of her voice, neither loud nor soft to Josh’s sensitive audition. He nodded a little bit in answer, before his eyes and fingers moved toward a photograph she had framed and standing on a large hardwood chest in front of the front room window, the latter in a motion. The chest was near the window, but not so near that it disrupted the dark blue curtains, which were presently drawn to provide some privacy. The subject in the photograph was a beautiful young woman who appeared to be about sixteen years old, with striking red hair and bright blue eyes, pale skin marked by heavy, attractive freckling.

                “Who’s this?” asked Josh, courteously curious.

                “My first girlfriend, Becca Anderson; _never_ Becky, she would lay you out flat for that. I remember this one time in high school shortly after we started dating, this guy was asking if we were looking for a third and he made the mistake of calling us ‘Becky and Belly.’ Becca punched him in the face so hard his back smacked the floor, he knocked his head a bit and as he sat up a little dazed, she put her foot on his crotch and scolded him firmly, first on our names, and then on being nosy. Then we went to the photo studio and had our pictures taken; I’ve had that picture since then. I guess you could say it’s one of my prized possessions, along with this clip Becca gave me for my birthday that year, even if neither of them are worth a whole lot, monetarily speaking,” Bella answered.

                “Sounds like she was pretty awesome, I would love to meet her sometime,” Josh offered, and Bella smiled.

                “Sadly, she still lives back up in our hometown of Steele, North Dakota; I’ve been trying to convince her to move down here, but she likes the cold,” Bella replied as she headed toward a door in her home’s hallway.

                “So you’re…?” started Josh, unsure how to ask politely, but finding himself definitely curious.

                “Oh, no, I’m not a lesbian, albeit Becca definitely is,” Bella replied, “I would consider myself panamourous and demisexual, personally. Come on, I live downstairs.”

                “What do you do with the ground floor?” asked Josh, his tone a bit bewildered by the idea.

                “Storage mostly; one room for exercise, one room for practicing my boxing and kickboxing, another room I use as a guest room. You know, like if someone from the Processor Mainframe moves into the Birmingham area and needs somewhere to stay while arranging personal housing, or if someone in the Masquerade needs to be hidden for some reason, like the zombie youth.”

                “Right,” Josh said as the two of them followed her downstairs into a finished basement, which looked much like an office, though there was a bedroom on the left-hand side of the stairs with the door at the base of the staircase. It had an emergency exit into the back yard less than forty feet away, and a sizable room that looked like a war room, on the other side, the exit door on one side of it, and an exit behind the staircase. Through that exit, Josh could see the pantry and beyond that her laundry room, but then his focus returned to the war room, which had a large computerized table with a three-dimensionally holographic map of the entire city of Birmingham and the surrounding environment.

                “I was able to intercept a Hunter-transmission from LT-COL Klaus, reporting on the discovery of a planned gathering of several hundred zombies and proposing a major assault. I also intercepted a response from Field Marshal Rommilt authorizing an assault on the gathering and authorizing the sending of Lieutenant Commander Quaife, with three thousand personnel. I did a little hacking and digging, and found that Quaife’s file is rife with reprimands, some for insubordination when he refused to fire at zombie youth, some for statements of disillusionment. There have been numerous calls for his discharge for refusal to execute noncombatant nonhumans and enforce human exclusivism, but he has been insulated from this by accolades for his tactical brilliance in clear-cut encounters against armed hostiles.”

                “Interesting; it is remarkably uncommon to discover an officer in their ranks who is no longer enthralled by their murderous humanocentrist ideologies,” Henri observed, his words slow and tone pensive, “Hopefully, this Quaife will survive to be taken into our custody. An attack of this magnitude, however… we will need to mobilize nearly all available in Birmingham to the fight. Thank you for this information, Bella, and thank you for inviting us to see your home. You have a beautiful living space, very neatly and intelligently organized; it was nice to get to know a little bit more about you, too.”

                “Of course, Henri; I only regret that I won’t ever get to see you guys’ den. I bet it’s beautiful, but I know that it would be unsafe for all of us for me to see the inside of the den or even know where it’s located,” Bella acknowledged in answer, her tone appreciative for the praise. Then, she escorted them back to the garage, handing over a flash drive with the information on it for them, so they could share the secured information with the rest of the Masquerade as a whole. Once the Lamborghini was running and seatbelts were clicked, she opened the garage door long enough to let them depart and roll down the driveway before closing it behind them and returning to her day.

                Once they returned to the den, the pair walked into the central hall, where they found everyone sitting together engaged in a casual conversation until they arrived.

                “Hey, they’re back,” Valentin said, drawing attention to them.

                “Alpha, Omega, we were wondering, could we ask you something that might be a little bit private?” asked Amara, “So we could get to know you better, I mean.”

                “Sure,” Josh replied casually, moving to the loveseat he and his alpha oft shared, which stood vacant.

                “As long as you answer those questions yourselves, for us, in return,” Henri said as he slid into the loveseat, drawing Josh into his lap and sliding his arms around him.

                “Of course,” Amara agreed, as Henri opened his mouth and sank his teeth into Josh’s left nape, biting firmly, and soliciting a soft growl of masochistic satisfaction in answer.

                “Well, for starters, I’ve always wondered, alpha, what was the name of the first person you’d say you loved, in a romantic or sexually intimate way?” asked Alexander, his tone curious. Henri relaxed his teeth and pulled back a bit, releasing Josh’s shoulder in the process.

                “Her name was Marguerite Beausoleil,” Henri answered, “she was a local woman, bitten about twelve years before me, from a different part of France as it existed at the time. Josh, what _is_ the name of _your_ ex? I don’t recall if you’ve ever mentioned it.”

                “You mean the total asshole who after we broke up blathered to about nineteen hundred people that he missed the sex and that I suck cock phenomenally, but said nothing about actually missing me or spending time with me?”

                “Yeah, that asshole,” Henri answered coolly, “I promise I won’t go eat him.” Josh looked over his shoulder at him skeptically, as if to say that hadn’t ever been a concern.

                “His name was David Druian, they always warned me that Druian's trouble, but I don’t like to judge people on the basis of a name,” Josh replied, rolling his shoulders a bit, “I haven’t really thought about him at all since that night when you bit me for the first time. I’ve had my mind on better things.” Henri smiled warmly at him in response, before sinking his teeth into another firm bite, this time on Josh’s right nape to let the left nape rest for a bit.

                “Well, Melanie’s probably my first love, she put a lot of time into developing a real relationship with me, far more than most of the people who found me to be their bitch-of-preference,” Amara said, “I kind of can’t wait for her to arrive here.” Josh smiled, and Henri’s eyes shimmered warmly as he looked at her while the young omega nodded.

                “I don’t think I can recall ever being in love before,” Cass observed thoughtfully; “I’m still a virgin.”

                “There’s nothing wrong with that, sex isn’t for everyone. It’s definitely for me,” Valentin assured zir, “I will admit that my first love was probably the bitch that turned me, Duilio Antonucci.”

                “Ours was probably Zachary Wilbourne,” Lyle said, sitting intimately close with Edmund, who nodded.

                “Definitely Zachary… well, and each other,” Edmund said, before Lyle’s head turned and the redhead kissed him gently, briefly, on the lips.

                “Ethan Snowgold, for me,” Helle said, slightly wistfully, “met him about ten years after I was bitten; we were together for about sixty years. We never actually had sex, or anything, but we were definitely in love.”

                “John Quix was my first guy while I was still alive,” Shawn said, “He died before me, though; I was the only one at his funeral, I never knew he was so isolated as to have me be the only person really in his life. My first love as a zombie was when I was about seventy years old as a zombie, his name was Ezekiel Jeckstadt, a fellow zombie, albeit he’s gone now, too.”

                “Chet Wallis,” Akoko said, “eventually learned he was a _complete_ dirt-bag, but when I was like, thirteen or fourteen, I was totally in love with the jerk. Fortunately, I retained my innocence despite his best efforts, thanks to my parents and our good relationship; they said I could spend time with him, but my clothes were to remain on my body without exception. Good thing, too, about six months into the relationship I discovered he was a philandering bastard; he was offended when I broke it off with him, but I wasn’t about to be girlfriend number eight.”

                “Reminds me of our first love,” Alexander said, “A guy named Chip Morrison.”

                “Found out shortly after we started seeing him, he was already banging two other guys, and the women each man was betrothed to marry,” William went on to say, “It was why we ended our relationship with him. He was getting a bit too big for his britches, expected us to submit to him the way that those other two men did, and then to find wives he could plough, too. We’ve always been the more Dominant Top sort of lovers, and we tend to let our sexual interest focus in on one shared partner at a time.”

                “For me, his name was Maximilian Eernisse,” Hildegarde said, “He was an excellent lover, but he was even more fun to be around. He was from Clan Lynca; unfortunately, he was killed by the Hunters in an engagement in the north of Germany in 1,572 CE.”

                “I would say my first love was Cleonymus, son of Krokinos; it was romantic but platonic, he found his sexual satisfaction elsewhere, with my blessing. I wouldn’t think to restrain a loved one’s sexuality just because I’m asexual,” Zuleika said, after a moment’s consideration.

                “Mine may shock you, but my first love was a young man named Aiantes, son of Kimon, whom I met while we were in our training phase in the Spartan war academy to become hoplites,” Aristos related, “He died in the same battle as I did, unfortunately he didn’t come back after that or we’d probably still be together. My first love after that, after becoming a revenant, was Zody.”

                “For me it was just Franklin, I don’t think I’d ever been in love with anyone before meeting him, and we’ve simply been together ever since,” Marcel admitted.

                “So you said you had a couple things you wanted to know about us?” asked Josh, looking back toward Amara, once everyone had weighed in with their respective answers.

                “Yeah, I was wondering, what’s everybody’s birthday? I mean birthdays are, you know, a pretty big deal and all, so it would be kind of nice to know when to plan for something special.”

                “Well, that’s a nice, simple question,” Josh opined, “I was born in 2,002 on the seventh of August, in Grand Junction, Colorado, and turned on the twenty-seventh of September in 2,020.”

                “Third of May in 1,025 and turned on the Vernal Equinox in 1,047,” Henri answered, separating his mouth from Josh’s shoulder to answer, still holding his mate close with both arms.

                “I don’t actually remember my birthdate, precisely, but I know what year I was born in and died in, and where it stands in the Chinese Zodiac. I was born in the year of the Yin Fire Rabbit and killed in the year of the Yang Fire Monkey,” Zuleika related, “It would be nice to remember the exact dates, but I’ve just celebrated it as January first of each year, absent a known date.”

                “I was born on the twenty-ninth of August in 81 BCE, in a remote hamlet in Gaul which… well, it no longer exists,” Marcel said.

                “October eleventh, 758 BCE, in Sparta,” Aristos answered simplistically.

                “January third, 1,812, in Horsham, England,” Shawn said, “only child of Gervaise and Aubreyanna Sylvain.”

                “We were born on the first of May in 1,740 in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania,” Alexander answered, “our mother never let us forget, it was an unpleasant experience.”

                “I can’t count the number of times we heard, ‘thirteen hours of labour,’ every single time we misbehaved in the slightest,” William added, “Alexander was born thirty minutes before me, that morning. He was born a quarter to eight, I was born a quarter after.” Josh couldn’t resist a reflexive chuckle at the anecdotal mention of the twins’ mother, of whom they both clearly had fond memories.

                “January twenty-ninth of 1,809 in London,” Edmund said, “turned February third of 1,828.”

                “December third of 1,808 in London,” Lyle added, “turned on the same day as Edmund was, of course.”

                “I was born on the eleventh of June, 1,470, in the city of Leipzig, Germany,” Hildegarde said when attention turned in her direction.

                “March twenty-first in 1,653 in the city of Budweis, in what was then Czechoslovakia,” Valentin said.

                “I was born in 1,761, on the twenty-eighth of September,” Akoko said, “in the city of Philadelphia.”

                “Twenty-sixth of February, 1,970, here,” Amara put in, when attention shifted in her direction, “in Chicago.”

                “Eighteenth of July, 1,386, for me,” Cass said at last, “I was born and raised in Brussels, Belgium.” After zir answer, everyone’s attention turned toward Helle, who had remained quiet, waiting until everyone else was finished.

                “I was born January twenty-first of 1,858 in Salt Lake City, Utah,” Helle said at last.

                “Seems like the birthdays are pretty well spread out, then,” Henri observed, “Should make it easy to be sure everyone gets their own cake, at least, even if we can’t really celebrate the birthdays too much being on deployment. Do you want to celebrate your technical birthdays or your therian birthdays, love?”

                “My technical birthdate is good for me; I don’t think the circumstances allow for anything too special for this year, though, but maybe next year, if it’s quiet,” Josh replied, and Henri nodded.

                “All right,” Henri replied, then looked over toward Edmund, tossing him the flash-drive, “Edmund, send this information to our Clan Elders to distribute to the rest, and ask them to notify anyone else in Birmingham that we will all possible assistance in defending the zombie assembly on the thirteenth.” Edmund nodded and slid out of his position with his own mate, quickly descending the stairs, followed shortly thereafter by Lyle to keep his lover company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always any impressions, observations, comments, questions, or courteous concerns or constructive input, are absolutely welcome. Thank you to everyone that has continued to read the story of Josh Colcord.


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A climactic battle occurs between the Hunters and soldiers of the Masquerade defending an assemblage of zombie civilians.

                “Answer received,” Lyle announced as he walked into the kitchen on the following morning, “we’ll receive the assistance of twelve members of Clan Tzookhor, twelve members of Clan Nahuel, eight members of Clan Acino, sixteen witches and warlocks, twenty vampires of the Moonbrand Coven. We’ll also have the aid of forty-four heavy gunners from the local zombie population, fifty-five biosynthetics, twenty-five cybernetics, and a lightning elemental who hastened into the region on receiving the news.”

                “The members of Tzookhor are from Prides Imbrifferi, Eovacious, and Lheureaux, as well as Prides Beveri, Cyr, and Diakovasius from Nahuel, with Pride Lurix of Clan Acino. The witches and warlocks are the Olumua Coven and the Roskov Coven; Moonbrand Coven is sending the Phannarath Sect and Ulakovich Sect.”

                “So that’ll be thirty-two cats,” Helle observed, “hope nobody’s allergic.” Josh couldn’t resist a chortle at the joke, but he was pretty sure being allergic to another person had an extraordinarily low chance of happening.

                “If anyone is, I hope it’s the Hunters,” Josh opined.

                “There is a good chance of catching them unawares with such an arrangement. Their current training regimen, to the best of our awareness, does not cover such a comprehensive spread of potential enemies. The ones here to kill the citizens of the Dead Congress are not going to be trained to handle vampires, spellcasters, wolves, jaguars, snow leopards, or cheetahs. The Lightning Elemental will be a nasty surprise, as well, I’m sure,” Henri said, “that does not, however, mean we should not take the fight seriously. The confrontation will be intense, and the Olumua Coven aren’t trained for offense, they are Athenians, they specialize in defense and security.”

                “The biosynthetics are riflemen, the cybernetics are pistoliers; the biosynthetics are going to be line shooters behind rapid-deploy barricades, the cybernetics are going to be hit-and-runners,” Lyle continued, “so don’t expect the cybernetics to provide backup.”

                “We’re not going to be right on their asses, anyway,” Henri said, drawing them into the main chamber of the den and a three-dimensional map of the geography of the battle site. He motioned their movement path from the den to the battle-site, where enemy markers were already set up based on intelligence already garnered by infiltration.

                “We will come in from this flank to deliver a considerable strike to the enemy’s forces, cut a path and vanish, there’s too much firepower if they turn it all on us instead of the shield. Olumua Coven will be placing a solid shield over the entire assemblage and maintaining it, but it’ll occupy all their attention and it’ll occupy all their mysticism.”

                “Roskov Coven specializes in battlefield medicine, they’re combat medics,” Marcel added, “the leader of it is my mate, Franklin. He’s damned good at what he does, but don’t expect any help from him in the battle, they’ll be inside the shield dome, hauling wounded into the shield and providing restorative spellcasting. He’ll be nowhere near you guys; you’ll be technically in-range, but he’s not going to see you to know if you need help, so try not to get hit.”

                “Understood,” Henri nodded, “you guys do what you need to do for the battle, make sure you’re where you need to be; let them know the wolves will be coming in on the rim so watch their fire.”

                “Right,” nodded Aristos in answer.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

                The intelligence report in front of him was unpleasant. It wasn’t a military target, it was a civilian target, and one of numerous. As he studied the intelligence report and the tactical map that indicated that the congregation would occur in a remote locale, he heard the sound of boots nearby; heavy footsteps. He looked up out of the upper periphery of his eyes, sighting the tall, well-muscled form of his second-in-command for the mission, one Captain Donald Rowe, his hand on his holstered firearm, a wordless threat. The writing was on the wall, clear as the sun’s light on a cloudless day, and Lennox Aries was not fool enough to think it was meant for someone else.

                _Command grows wearied of my resistance to their amenability to terroristic tactics_ , he observed to himself, _Rowe probably has orders to shoot me and assume command should I seem to be faltering in my purpose. Clever play, Reginald, but you’re overestimating Rowe’s acting abilities, and underestimating my intelligence, same as in chess. I warned you that’d be a mistake if the situation were ever … real._

                “Captain Rowe,” the Lieutenant Commander said, his tone making it clear it was a declarative not an inquiry; the man snapped to attention immediately.

                “Lieutenant-Commander Aries,” Donald answered.

                “Are your men prepared for the mission?”

                “Yes, Sir,” replied the man, and Lennox nodded.

                “Good. Your unit will be on the third line; when you break through, shoot to kill, we’re not taking prisoners,” he ordered, the man’s hand moving away from the grip of his service pistol. His keen senses told him there wouldn’t be an opportunity for such a massacre; intuition warned him they had learnt too easily of this gathering. Twenty years ago, he would have voiced the concerns about this to a superior; ten years ago, he would have said something to his direct commanding officer. Four years ago, he would have modified his plans to have contingencies and had reserves for exigent circumstances. However, today, the perceptive notation of Rowe’s hand on his pistol had brought Lennox across the last threshold of disillusionment.

                _Sorry Reginald, but that is one error too many_ , Lennox mused to himself as he reviewed the battle plans, the combat map, and the forward intelligence, targeting his thoughts on his commanding officer. Fortunately for himself, Rommilt was nowhere even in the state of Alabama much less anywhere near the forward operating bunker, and that left Aries all the freedom he needed to do what was right.

                _It’s been too long coming_ , Lennox thought to himself, _I’d rather surrender to the eternals than continuing to serve the wrong side. I would sooner give up my mortality than remain a Hunter; I never signed up to be a terrorist._

                “Soldier,” Lennox said as he turned his eyes from the maps once more, to the nearest soldier, who’d snapped into a stance of attention, “announce the attack is confirmed and greenlighted. We will attack on schedule, the soldiers are to be roused at noon to begin preparations for the attack.” Of course, the assault was not until later in the evening, but that was rather the point. It meant they would have time to burn through some of the energy of being well-rested, as the soldier moved off to deliver the orders. They would not be exhausted as they moved into battle, but the dullness of not being well rested and alert anymore might be enough to give an edge to the eternals. If his intuition were right, and it were more than just the undead, that was all the help he would need to provide to give them the lead. Now it’d just be a matter of having an opportunity to surrender without being killed, himself.

                _Not that I would blame them were they to kill me_ , Lennox observed as he moved to his quarters, and prepared for the risk of an unexpected evening visitor. He closed the door of his chambers, barring the door with the invasion countermeasure, arranging his weapons neatly in position: three throwing knives at the edge of his nightstand nearest to the bed. Just past that, a nine-millimeter with a nine-round clip already loaded and one in the chamber with another two clips beside it, and leaned up against the nightstand, his rifle with a forty-two-round magazine.

                _They turn on me tonight, they’re going to regret it_ , Lennox thought grimly; he knew he would not be able to fight his way out of the bunker if it came to that, but he was certain he would take a few dozen with him if the situation required it. He knew it was an unlikelihood, but the risk was there and he was too smart a tactician and too experienced a soldier to believe Rowe’s hand on his pistol was something other than a silent threat.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

                “All set for the rendezvous with the others,” Shawn said, as he walked into the den’s bathhouse and slipped into the hot, bubbling bathwaters, “Soon as Aristos and Marcel are readied, as well, we’ll be leaving for at least a little while, until after the battle anyway. Going to leave our things here, of course, but they want us to do some manoeuvres, trial runs, go through the weapons checks, shit like that.”

                “Understandable,” Josh answered readily, with a bit of a nod, from where he was already relaxing in the bath, clean and letting the heat sooth his muscles.

                “In case things don’t go quite according to plan,” Shawn added, “they say in war, plan for things to go wrong, because the best-laid plans never survive the first skirmish. In my quarters here in the Den, there’s an electric journal; if something happens to me in the coming battle, I would like you to have it. One of the files on it is my Last Will and Testament, it’s up to date; I update it every time I’m about to go into a battle, but the journal itself should stay yours. I like you, maybe more than I’ve liked anyone in a long time, so I’d like to pass my memories and my autobiography to you, or at least the first copy of my autobiography.” Josh got the feeling he might like it if Josh spread around the contents of his journal if something happened to him, so that the community would remember him, would know him, and would know about what he’d done in his life.

                “All right, I can do that,” Josh promised. He didn’t like it, of course, talking about the potential death of one of his intimate partners, but it wasn’t about what Josh liked, it was about being a good friend and a good companion. Shawn needed to know that he could rely on Josh to do this for him, and Josh made sure Shawn knew he wouldn’t let him down on that matter.

                “Thanks, Josh,” Shawn said, smiling a bit as the two of them lingered in the bathwater for a while longer, at least until Josh pulled himself out, at which point Shawn joined him in drying off. As a dead person, he didn’t need to bathe as much because he didn’t get dirty as fast as living persons tended to get dirty by virtue of still being living.

                As they walked out of the bathhouse, they found that Zuleika was sitting with the others, in the middle of a statement to the others.

                “… presence nearby,” she concluded, before they looked over and noticed that Josh and Shawn had only just arrived in the room.

                “Could you repeat that for Josh and Shawn, Zuleika?” asked Henri, and she nodded readily to the request.

                “Of course; as you know, Mummies are psychic, we possess a number of extrasensory abilities. Recently, an unfamiliar psychic signature has been pinging on my radar, figuratively speaking; whatever it is, or rather whoever it is, I sense their presence nearby,” Zuleika repeated, then continued, “Another psychic is nearby. Given that there isn’t another Mummy anywhere in at least a hundred miles possibly not in another thousand miles, that psychic is a mortal.”

                “Can you determine anything else about this other psychic individual?” asked Josh, and she shook her head a bit in answer to the query.

                “At the moment, no, not from this distance; all I know is it is a psychic with a masculine psychic signature,” Zuleika answered, and Josh nodded his understanding.

                “All right, well, we’ll look into the situation more closely if we get the opportunity, of course,” Henri replied, and she nodded, rolling her shoulders.

                “I don’t foresee it being an issue at all, but I felt it bore mention,” the Mummy said in return.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

                As the men prepared for the battle to come, Lennox felt a strange sensation that was wholly unfamiliar, as if he was sensing the proximity of something with a sensory input that he’d never experienced, before.

                _It’s like a new sensory organ has just awakened, all of the sudden, for no reason whatsoever_ , Lennox mused quietly in his mind, _I don’t know what it’s trying to tell me, but it’s giving me a goddamned headache._ He took a brief moment to take a pair of short-lived pain-relievers for the headache before he checked his ammunition for a third time. He was not only expecting trouble, he was expecting trouble to come at him from more than one direction, and he’d need to address it carefully if he wanted to survive the night.

                “Everything all right, Lieutenant-Commander?” asked Captain Rowe, “You look… strained, vexed perhaps.”

                “I am fine, Captain,” Lennox enunciated firmly, a tinge of warning agitation in his voice, it being the fourth time the man had bloody asked, “Simply looking forward to putting this business behind us and getting back to base; you know how I hate these… abominations.” He let that linger in the air, allowed the man to think the abominations of which he spoke were the immortals, but more and more, he had come to believe Hunters were the aberrant ones.

                “Of course, Lieutenant-Commander; the men are ready to move out at your command.”

                “Consider the order given, and perhaps when this done our mission in this region will be concluded,” he said. He knew at the end of the night that would be the case, one way or another; he didn’t know how he knew, of course, he just knew that he knew. It was how it had always been, his uncanny intuition.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

                As Zuleika reached the intended battle-site, the defiant and plucky zombie civilians had assembled, and they were surrounded by the eight-member Olumua Coven, who stood in an octagon, encircling them albeit facing outward.

                “ _Athiru… nuala… runa… hessinia…_ ” chanted the eight members of the Coven, the words passing from the lips of all eight members slowly, but in flawless synchronicity without being able to see the others. Their hands moved slowly, trailing through an air as different colours synchronized into a deep shade of sparkling navy blue energies that then spread out in an arc before them. Soon, the edges of the respective arcs reached each other and coalesced into the shape of a tall ring that dug into the earth and rose up into the air, arching backward until it culminated in an enormous, glittering, translucent blue dome.

                “ _Athiru nuala runa hessinia,_ ” the chant continued, now more uniform and consistent, as Zuleika rose up into the air, passing through the top of the dome and coming to stand on top of it. Solid from the outside, barring something physically pulling one through the massive shell, she could stand steadily on top of it, and prepare herself for combat from that elevated position with an excellent line-of-sight.

                As she rose, she noted that the members of the Roskov Coven were scattered around, Marcel had taken up a position with some of the zombies with heavy guns and Aristos had taken a position on a low tree branch. There was a triple perimeter of quick-deployment barricades with heavy gunners and biosynthetic riflemen, and she could sense the liberal distribution of therian presences in the trees beyond the perimeter of the clearing.

                She could sense the proximity of another psychic, the same unfamiliar presence she’d mentioned previously to the wolf-pack, still without identification, for now. A weaker, younger psychic, but a psychic nevertheless, and she could tell he was mortal by how their signature felt in the periphery of her senses. She could tell it was someone most definitively of the male persuasion, though she wasn’t able to focus on anything more specific than that, leastwise not yet. The residual psychic energies made it clear that the psychic signature was coming from the back of a large group of human signatures that were unmistakable as Hunters.

                _Hmm, is it possible the Lieutenant-Commander is a psychic?_ she thought to herself, _Odd to think that they’d intentionally recruit a psychic, but then it would be equally unexpected if they had recruited one without even realizing they had done so, wouldn’t it?_ For several minutes she pondered that as the formation of the Hunters marched forward, headed in their direction and toward a violent, militant confrontation.

                She could sense the transition of most of their therianthropic allies, but as the night was not a lunar event, the wolves elected to remain in their human forms, given Josh’s youth. Overhead, there was a crescent moon, barely more than a sliver, as the moonless night was in three days’ time, which meant it was dark enough to favour the defenders. Even if the Hunters had night-vision gear, as was a strong likelihood, the defenders still had the advantage of natural, unassisted sight, on their side. She could sense and pinpoint movement in the tree-boughs, finally, and then she noticed the first Hunters breaching the tree line of the hilly clearing.

                Below, Zody was tensed and readied, emanating a faintly visible electrical charge that crackled around her, as she waited for the enemy to come within striking distance. Her personal plan wasn’t yet hammered out yet, Zuleika sensed; she hadn’t decided how to attack the enemy, only that she would wait until they were close enough for her to be able to attack them. Everyone else was locked and loaded, with their weapons at the ready; between those zombies having light machine guns, human biosynthetics with combat rifles, and human cybernetics with pistols, Zuleika felt the defense would fight well. She sensed no hesitation or fear, no doubts or apprehensions about the fight that was to come, all of which meant the protected assemblage was likely to remain secure until the fighting was over. Her brain activity spiked, as she closed her eyes and took a breath, then opened her eyes and prepared her own abilities for what was to come. She’d rarely been in a fight so intense as this was going to be, but she had had more than her fair share of violent encounters with Hunters since their appearance, and their predecessors before them.

                The Hunters weren’t the first to hunt; only the most Roman.

                As the first Hunters showed up, gunfire was immediate from the defenders, as the defensive arc opened fire, at least in part. The cybernetic pistoliers held their fire until the enemy came near enough for smaller weapons like the pistols they carried, but zombies and biosynthetics alike started to fire. The thunderous sonic slam of Shawn’s sniper rifle sounded repeatedly as well, every few seconds it broke above the din of gunfire back and forth between the two sides. The barricades themselves, while of the quick-deployment variety, held remarkably well as the Hunters pushed forward, closer and closer until the pistoliers opened fire. Lethal headshots from the cybernetics and Shawn’s sniper rifle downrange around Aristos made for a number of guns going silent in the course of the battle.

                A heartbeat later, Zuleika reached out with her hands and made sweeping gestures with her hands, waves of telekinetic force bowling through the Hunter formation. Stumbling was followed by dying as bullets hit the area that’d abruptly stopped firing, before a blade of telekinetic force was whipped across the line, slicing open more than a dozen Hunters across arteries in their unarmoured necks. Lightning flickers in a trail as Zody ripped through them, a zigzag of electricity that complimented the metallic sound of gunfire ricocheting off Aristos and fatally wounding the Hunters around him, including most of those that fired on him.

                From within the periphery of the dome, members of the Roskov Coven were launching attacks as well, in the form of spheres of blue fire, arcs of green lightning, or laser-like bursts of bright, magenta luminescence. As Zuleika stood overlooking the battlefield, bullets whipped around her, and she shifted into a defensive posture, her telekinesis transforming into a wedge before her, sending bullets around her without striking her.

                “Grenades!” shouted one man below, as Hunters with grenade launchers appeared, firing grenades streaming a misty white vapour behind them, before detonating and showering the area with cryogenic contents. In several points of the shield, razor-thin layers of ice formed against the sturdy defense, crumbled ice heralded the second-death of no small number of defenders. Even as they moved to reload, Zody’s movements brought her in a deadly zigzag across, knifing every man that carried a grenade-launcher and simultaneously striking the guns, themselves, to destroy them.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

                As he walked toward the intended battle site, Lennox rechecked his weapons to make sure they would not be jamming on him, as well as the number of rounds he had available. Only a dozen feet ahead, Captain Donald Rowe’s back faced him as he walked toward the battle, calm and confident, quiet and self-assured, flanked by his men in the process. As gunfire erupted ahead of them, Lennox stumbled a half-step as he got hit by a new psychic sensation, and came to a halt, putting a hand on the side of his head as he focused.

                _Ahead of him, furred forms dropped out of the trees, nearly three dozen of them, as something started to tear into the formation from their midst. Blood sprayed across the bases of trees, ran in rivers into the moss and dirt below their feet, and in some cases, portions of bodies thumped heavily into the forest floor. Gunfire erupted nearer, bullets whirring through the darkened woodland, slamming into trees, lethally striking some of the Hunters while others were harmlessly slicing furrows or burrowing holes into great, furred forms, for whom the damage looked like it was utterly negligible. The forms with fur were covered with spots or rosettes, though the colours other than that were somewhat varied, multiple different types of attackers, but all therianthropic in nature._ Shaking, shaking, suddenly every part of it was shaking, until he blinked rapidly and came back to the world, and found himself staring up at the face of Captain Donald Rowe.

                “Lieutenant-Commander, are you all right?” the man asked, and Lennox shook his head as he sat up, clearing his mind for an instant.

                “I think they have a Mummy ahead. I felt like something slammed into my mind,” he lied, standing up while wondering where he’d gotten the concept that they had a Mummy with them. It was extraordinarily improbable for it to be the case, and nobody had reported anything that suggested the presence of such an individual as that. A moment’s pause and Rowe held his hand out, before helping Lennox to his feet before nodding his understanding at the statement.

                “All right, you heard the boss, boys, there’s a Mummy needs killin’ up there,” Donald shouted encouragingly to his men, who hollered and whooped at the prospect, “Permission to go forth and kill, Sir?”

                “Granted,” Lennox said calmly, one hand moving to the grip of his pistol and the other over his shoulder to the grip of his military rifle, once the Captain’s back had turned. He sensed presences nearby, several of them in fact, and remembered the vision he’d just had; being his first vision ever, he suspected he’d never forget the damned thing. Either way, he knew he could’ve warned them, but he elected not to, instead watching as a squad of men broke in on their flank from one side while a score and a half of fur-covered frames dropped out of the treetops to initiate a lethal ambush on the mortal fanatics.

                “By the way, Captain Rowe,” Lennox said as he drew his pistol, soliciting the Captain and his men to turn in his direction just as the first felines were dropping out of the trees to attack. He squeezed the trigger and fired the gun, a bullet whipping through the air and slamming into the Captain’s head, dead centre, leaving his men staring in shock as their Captain fell, almost executed by their Lieutenant Commander.

                “I don’t appreciate having subordinates with orders to kill me,” he concluded, before firing seven more times, dropping seven more men before he dropped his pistol and hauled down his rifle. He fired several bursts that dropped the rest of the Captain’s squad before they had time to process the Lieutenant Commander’s blatant defection to their enemy’s side right in the heat of battle. Even as his gun ran dry and he dropped out the clip, he noticed that he couldn’t see the human-forms anymore, which caused him to pause and look around. Abruptly, he found himself surrounded, by a collection of men and women, none of whom wore the combat gear of the Hunters.

                “Lieutenant-Commander Lennox Aries, I presume,” said one, who appeared to be an admittedly surprisingly cute eighteen-year-old with a nice tan, deep green eyes, and an attractive mop of hair the colour of dark chocolate. He was only five foot eight, but Lennox knew an authority figure when he saw one, and didn’t see anyone, immediately, who looked to be more in charge than him.

                “Yes, that is correct. I would like to surrender myself into your custody, and defect,” he answered, crouching briefly to place his weapon on the forest floor, then stood and pointed past the younger-looking male, “My application, by the way.” The brunette half-turned to look, observing the several dead bodies nearest them.

                “Yes, we rather noticed you executing some of your, ah… former, subordinates,” the brunette said in answer.

                “May I inquire as to whom I am addressing?”

                “Omega Colcord,” the brunette answered, before a much larger male spoke from behind him.

                “Keep an eye on him while we join the others and clean up these fanatics,” the taller male ordered, with an accent of an unmistakable Cajun variety. He could distinguish a hint of pure French accent, but the great majority of his accent was comparable to the Cajun accent of Louisiana. In addition to the brunette wolf, a chocolate-skinned she-wolf remained as well, ensuring Lennox was thoroughly contained within their custody.

                “Bastards,” Lennox muttered with irritation as he looked toward the Hunters.

                “Pardon me?”

                “I joined the organization on the premise that there were unnatural monsters terrorizing human populations, committing atrocities so heinous and foul as to be unutterable, massacring humans at every opportunity, in many cases using humans as food, generally attempting to render humankind extinct,” Lennox answered the brunette’s question. It was only fair for the male, whom he assumed as a wolf based on the title of Omega, to wonder at his statement.

                “Yet in decades in the organization, the only terrorizing I’ve seen has been by colleagues, the only atrocities I’ve discovered were ones I was ordered to commit and refused. The only massacres I’m aware of are ones that never happened, when I was ordered to kill noncombatants of your world, ordered to kill them simply because they weren’t humans. My constant refusals were ultimately deemed irregular, my loyalty questioned, my commitment challenged; in the end, I was given a subordinate with orders to kill me if I did not perform this mission to the utmost of expectation, regardless of the civilian cost. I refuse,” he concluded, “to be made a murderer for the prejudice of a long-dead Roman fool too blind to see the truth.”

                “How could you be certain that your subordinate was ordered to kill you?”

                “I don’t know. I just know things, sometimes; like I knew you guys were here before I saw you,” he answered.

                “Why didn’t you warn your men?” asked the woman.

                “… because I don’t warn terrorists when they’re about to get their just comeuppance,” was the stern response.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

                “Status report,” Henri said as he approached the shield, which slowly disintegrated as the chanting dimmed, then faded into silence, as the battle had ended, and gunfire had ceased.

                “All enemies terminated,” answered Marcus, who looked like he was one of the unwounded members of the defense team. However, there were numerous casualties from the looks of it.

                “Casualty report?” continued Henri, and Marcus took a deep breath and sighed.

                “Bad news on that, we took a hard hit, there,” he replied, half-turning to look toward the wounded and what was almost a triage camp with the sixteen witches and warlocks, “The entire zombie contingent was hurt, at minimum, and thirty members are unaccounted for, there’s some nitrogen-frozen rubble from the cryogenic grenades that Hunters launched into our lines. Fourteen of the zombies are still moving, thirty-one are gone, between the frost grenades and acid grenades, but unfortunately, your sniper friend isn’t amongst the wounded. The witches and warlocks are working on saving the lives of those like us, biosynthetics and cybernetics, but we took a lot of wounded in our mortal fighters, too. Sixteen biosynthetics and twelve cybernetics are dead. Only cybernetics not wounded right now are me, Matthew, and Kelly; the other ten are receiving regenerative magic from Olumua and Roskov Covens.”

                “Of the biosynthetics, thirty-nine survivors, twenty-one are wounded and in similar need of enchanted repair, as are the fourteen zombie survivors. Fortunately, none of the witches or warlocks were wounded or killed, which will do a lot to minimize our losses,” Marcus continued, “The Mummy’s all right, but slightly winded. The Revenants are both intact and uninjured, credit that to skill on their part, and the Lightning Elemental is doing well, too. The Vampires took eight losses, five from Phannarath Sect and three from Ulakovich Sect; fortunately, no therian was harmed in the course of the battle. Of course, every one of them has sixty or seventy bullets they’re waiting on having drawn out by the covens, but they’re unwounded except the chronic pain of having a bullet in them that hasn’t been removed yet.”

                “Damn,” Henri said as Marcus concluded, “I had hoped that being a sniper would insulate him from it, but I suppose not.” He’d dealt with death long enough to not have the kind of visceral, primal reaction that one had when a loved one’s loss was still raw. He knew it to be an unfortunate but consistent product of one thousand years of losing people he had feelings for, people he cared for; human collaborators for the most part but friends, nevertheless. He knew Josh would take it harder, but he knew that it was something his Omega could work his way through, though it was somewhat of a question of how long it would take him to process.

                “All right, we’ll handle it, and let everyone know we’ll also be handling the convert, as well. Please encourage Zuleika, Marcel, and Aristos, to return at their leisure to the Den,” Henri said, and Marcus nodded. Henri spent a few minutes longer connecting with the leaders of the various cat-prides, and the leaders of the Vampire Sects to express his appreciation for the assistance. There were no Elders on the battlefield this evening; no matter how hard a hit they took, they could recover as none of the Elders had been harmed. He wasn’t sure how much of a contribution it would have been to have an Elder present; Zuleika was the oldest one present, at nearly three thousand five hundred years, but even she wouldn’t become an Elder for another fifteen centuries.

                Now all that remained was to return to the Den, to handle the defector and to process the results of the battle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the very long delay between the previous chapter and this one, I've been feeling major writer's block for a long while now, but finally managed to complete the chapter. Please feel free to leave comments, or any questions, or general thoughts, and such as that. I like to receive input.


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pack and their allies process the loss of Shawn Sylvain, and the defection of Lennox Aries.

                As he sat on the bed in what had been Shawn’s temporary bedchamber in the Den, Josh found it more than a little difficult to process that he had been killed. The absence of confirmable remains had encouraged brief hopes, but that had been dashed by Zuleika’s assurance that his mental presence was no longer in her sensory range, and the fact he had not returned clinched it. He wouldn’t have left all his belongings behind, after all, which could mean only one thing, and Josh found himself working on dealing with it. His fingers were curved around the opposite sides of Shawn’s digital logbook, staring at the black screen of the twelve-by-fourteen sheen of resilient, sturdy plastic.

                “All right,” Josh said to himself as he took a deep breath, then looked up at the sound of a knock just at the same instant he was about to turn it on, to see his fellow bitch, Amara, standing there.

                “Hey, can I join you?” she asked, and Josh nodded, scooting a little toward Shawn’s pillows to create room for her, and she moved to sit beside him, “Shawn’s journal, right?”

                “Yes, he told me before the battle, he wanted to pass the journal to me and entrust me as the executor of his will, which is on here, if something happened to him,” Josh replied, looking back down at it, “I’ve been trying to get together the motivation to turn it on for the last three days.”

                “First time losing someone?” she asked, to which he shook his head.

                “Only since becoming a wolf,” Josh answered, “lost my parents, like you, when I was a kid. Under different circumstances, of course, but the result’s the same. You don’t have mortal parents anymore, I don’t have mortal parents anymore; this is my first time losing someone I’ve been intimate with.” The black-haired wolf-maiden nodded quietly to signify her understanding, then looking toward the journal in her omega’s hands.

                “Same here, really,” she said, “I mean, I wasn’t as close to him as you were, but it’s still hard to lose a lover, or even just someone you’ve shared a living space with. I’m not really sure what to think, what to do, how to process it, or anything like that; I know you two were intimate, though, so I wanted to be here for you.”

                “Thanks, Amara,” Josh answered, smiling at her for a moment before turning his attention back toward that electronic journal and finally tapping the button to turn it on. Almost immediately, a video played, seemingly set for playing automatically, as soon as the device was turned on; black for a moment, then it faded into light and colour as Shawn sat in that very room and addressed the camera, so to speak.

                “Josh, if you’re listening to this, well, watching this, I guess is more accurate, that means for whatever reason, I did not return from the battle, in which case, please remember to check the Last Will and Testament and make certain it’s delivered to someone in the Dead Congress. Some of my stuff is obviously in the Den, still, and most of that won’t stay around, but I’ve left you something in my will. It is in the Den right now, so go ahead and collect it now, I don’t want you to have to wait for the resolution of the Will since it’s already in the room with you. It’s in the nightstand, it is a small disc-cut jewel, it’s my single most valuable possession, monetarily speaking, though this journal is my what I prize most, because it contains all the memories of my life. I’ll wait while you get the jewel, it’s in the only drawer.”

                Josh blinked a little, surprised he’d been left anything beyond the journal and by the almost interactive nature of the cinematic file, but he leaned over to the nightstand, anyway. He opened the drawer and pulled out a stunningly brilliant, lustrous jewel, which looked sort of like a diamond on steroids, in a manner of speaking.

                “You may be wondering what this is,” Shawn continued on the prepared video file, as Josh examined what he held in his hand. It looked very much like a coin, with a thickness of one quarter of an inch and a diameter of two inches, clear enough to be gazed through though obviously not a lens of any sort.

                “It is a gem called Moissanite, a stone with more brilliance, luster, and clarity, than diamonds. Moissanite is, today, typically manmade in laboratories for the purpose of jewelry manufacture. This particular gem, however, is one of the rare natural occurrences of Moissanite, cut from the meteorite that struck near Murchison, Australia, in 1969,” Shawn went on to say, “It was not easily acquired, but it has a market value of about $3,000,000 as of an appraisal in 2020. I make a point to have it appraised every twenty years; there is an engraving around the edge, which includes a tool-mark the jeweller used as his personal signature, and essentially relates everything I just said. It’s what makes the jewel appraisable; it doesn’t really have a name, exactly, but if you say it’s the Murchison coin, most appraisers will know what you’re talking about because most of them have heard of it.”

                “Well, he’s right; never heard of it,” Josh said thoughtfully as he looked at the crystalline disc.

                “Anyhow, enough of that; I trust you to see my will delivered to a professional executor, even if you’ll always have a copy here on this journal. Also,” Shawn said in the video file, “you’re a hell of a lot of fun in bed, enchanting to talk to, and easily one of my favourite people even though we didn’t have long to get to know each other. However, I hope not to see you in heaven anytime soon, I’d say ever, but from personal experience, everyone dies eventually.” He paused, mused a moment and remembered a few people apparently.

                “Well, _almost_ everyone,” Shawn amended, “who knows, maybe you and Henri will be one of the exceptions. I certainly hope so. I guess this is goodbye… it’s been a privilege knowing you.” Josh felt and smelled the tears that rolled down his cheeks; it was hard not to cry when someone you liked died. It was even more difficult if they actually went to all the effort to leave you a farewell message like this one, he wasn’t sure he’d ever watch it again but he knew it was certainly a possibility.

                “If it helps at all, I asked a friend of mine about the afterlife once; a Ghost,” Amara said, “how she put it was like if you have an elderly person who is highly independent, but they know exactly where to find an excellent assisted living or senior citizens centre, development, whatever. Ghosts _know_ how to get to the afterlife: they’re not the least bit unclear on how to get there, for whatever reason they are simply choosing not to actually do so.”

                “Thanks, Amara,” Josh answered warmly, as he took a moment to brush aside the tears and stood up, sliding the Moissanite coin into his pocket and kept the journal in-hand. He’d take it back to his shared quarters with Henri, letting himself get to know Shawn better at his own pace, as Shawn had clearly intended by leaving him the journal.

                “Where is the defector?” he asked, changing the subject to the matter at hand, having more immediate import.

                “Held at a secure site in Birmingham, proper, while determination is made about what precisely to do about him; his claim of intent to defect is supported by having killed his direct subordinates, and volunteering to become an immortal himself. Even if they wanted to plant a spy in our midst,” Amara replied, “they wouldn’t sacrifice numerous Human lives to accomplish it, and such a spy wouldn’t offer to surrender their humanity knowing they would then be on the kill-list, themselves, eventually.”

                “If what I am told is correct, the Hunters also believe that the transformation from mortal to immortal costs a person their soul, metamorphosing them into mindless, ravenous, carnivorous automata. No Hunter would consider attempting to become an immortal to become a spy in the Masquerade while they remain convinced that anyone who joins is going to turn into a soulless monster with no recollection of prior purpose,” Josh added, “So I suspect that this defector’s motivations are pure and genuine.”

                “Discovering that we keep our souls might be enough to make some of them really reconsider their position, break them out of their intense brainwashing,” Amara mused, “too bad that’s a risk too significant to ever consider.”

                “Yea,” Josh agreed, “the risk of disastrous backfiring is why nonconsensual conversions are prohibited under Masquerade Law.” He’d learned that much in the fortress of Clan Aatu, so he knew why they hadn’t gone and bitten just everyone who thought they were a werewolf, or a vampire, or who might agree to it with dark ulterior motivations.

 

 

* * *

 

 

                At the secure site where he had been taken to be questioned and interviewed, Lennox Aries found himself in an unfamiliar environment, essentially an apartment with three other humans present. Each of them was somehow just a bit different than him, not only because they were working in conjunction with the Masquerade rather than against, but because there was something that tickled the back of his mind about each. It was nothing on the surface, nothing he could put his finger on directly, but it was there, like an itch he couldn’t scratch because he couldn’t determine the location of the itch to scratch it.

                “There is a confusion and a curiosity about him,” Zuleika said, as they stood on the roof above the apartment, wherein he was under guard by the cybernetics Marcus Telhomme and Kelly Zaven, and the biosynthetic Constantine Kelekovich. It was understandable, he found himself in an entirely new situation, and found his psychic abilities being awakened rather forcefully by her proximity.

                “He is earnest in his desire to defect, however, and in his disillusionment; especially since they wanted to kill him already, for not killing noncombatants,” she continued, “He’s never killed a noncombatant, has never ordered the killing of a noncombatant, and has never authorized the killing of a noncombatant. He considers them to be tactically irrelevant; at modest personal risk, he even decreed that noncombatants – especially juvenile noncombatants – were a fool’s target, for only a fool would strike at them.” She paused thoughtfully as she psychically examined the man who was less than thirty feet below.

                “That tactical analysis was… decidedly not well-received,” she concluded, then paused before adding, “Also, his own psychic abilities are potent enough to permit him to sense both my presence and proximity, albeit he cannot determine my location. He possesses considerable foresight, a partial key to his tactical successes, albeit monumentally untapped; it is awakening, now, however, due to my proximity to him.”

                “Your psychic abilities are causing a reaction in his?” asked Henri, and she nodded.

                “A localized reaction, perhaps; it could be that proximity to a Mummy causes a augmentative reaction in the latent, suppressed, or underdeveloped abilities of psychic mortals,” she postulated out loud, thoughtfully, then rolled her shoulders, “However, his abilities are precognitive in nature. He can sense the presence of other psychics, at this point, but that’s the only thing he can do other than see limited glimpses of what would appear to be only near-future events.” She paused for another moment, looking over at Henri.

                “Tactically advantageous, not great for picking winning lottery numbers,” she opined, “Shall we go down to speak with him?”

                “Yea,” Henri chortled at the joke, then nodded, “Yes, that’s definitely the next step.” At that, he led the way down into the building once more, though Zuleika remained in the stairwell and did not immediately join them in the apartment as they walked in.

                “Lennox Aries,” Henri said, and the human turned as he recognized both pitch and accent from the battlefield; “I am Henri Barre. I am told that you have expressed a desire to embrace immortality, in addition to repudiating and renouncing the Hunters.”

                “I did, out of a desire to counterbalance the battles I led as a Lieutenant Commander of the Hunter’s Soldiery, to protect those who I was conditioned to believe were the problem,” Lennox replied, and then simplified, “I am free of their indoctrination, and I’m mad.”

                “I see,” answered Henri, “We will consider where you would be the best fit, then.” There were certainly more than a few possibilities for where a true precognitive could be useful, especially since some of them might build upon his psychic abilities.

                “Obviously, there is an interval during which there will be dialogue well above all of our heads about how to answer your request to join the Masquerade. Your reasons are certainly understandable, and you wouldn’t technically be the first to switch sides, but there’ll also be a trial period wherein your transitioned loyalties are checked and tested. As you can no doubt understand, we must be quite cautious about who is brought into our community,” continued the Cajun wolf, and Lennox nodded.

                “Of course, you cannot give me an answer, yourself, since you aren’t in charge any more than I was ever the one in charge,” Lennox got it, as one who had been a ‘military man’ for a long period of his life, now.

                “You will be taken somewhere more secure, while those in charge decide where to move you next. During all that, you’ll have repeated opportunities to demonstrate your loyalties by updating our information on the Hunters, their organization, and so forth,” Henri continued, to which Lennox only nodded his understanding and his acceptance.

 

 

* * *

 

 

                _Fire, tension, plumes of thick black smoke; and then all went black, then a white luminescence so intense it was blinding._

                So blinding that she reflexively flinched backward and instinctively covered her eyes as if warding off a real light before Zuleika blinked rapidly several times in swift succession. It was a surprising experience, she didn’t know how to interpret it in spite of her thousands of years of life; the vision was difficult to read or interpret.

                “All right, let’s try this again,” she said to herself as she took a deep breath, slipping out of her clothes before walking to the Den’s bathhouse and lowering herself into the warm comfort of the water. Her eyes closed, and soon thereafter, the onyx wall transformed into light and colour.

                _A bunker of reinforced concrete, practically a combination of kiln and beehive, enemies in an arc ahead, but shadows enclosed around the peripheries of the area, like a dome of onyx mist. As she moved forward, almost in slow motion, the darkness enclosed rapidly, though she saw smoke and fire rising out of the enemy bunker near immediately. A moment later, total shadow and then a brilliant flash…_

                … and she roused once more from the sight, almost shot out of the attempt to look into the future, attempting a few more times. She discovered that whenever she tried to look too far ahead, she had the same vision every single time; she could only look forward a few days, and then, all she saw was fire, smoke, and ash, an empathic sensation of tension and finality. As she left the bathhouse, she slipped past Amara and Helle, returning to her chambers within the beautiful architecture and décor of the Wolf-Den.

                She moved to her desk, pulling a paper free and collecting a pen with navy-blue ink, and started to write, as thousands of years of precognition had taught her the value of preparation.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

                “So, you’re… Zody, right?” asked Josh, as he took a seat in the Den’s central hall, across from where Aristos was sitting with his mate, who had come to the Den after the battle. She was a woman of healthy scent to his nostrils, and from what he could tell simply by looking at her: a strapping five feet ten inches and what he would’ve estimated to be around one hundred eighty-five pounds. Her hair was shoulder-length with a true-black colour, a couple bright streaks zigzagging through it in electric blue that seemed to flicker occasionally with an electrical luminescence and scent; her eyes had a similar colour, and a similar inner light.

                “Yes. You must be Josh, the wolf-bitch Aristos was telling me about,” she replied, her voice nonjudgmental, “Thank you for taking care of his needs in my absence.” Josh nodded in answer and offered a friendly smile in answer.

                “I’ve been alive long enough to know more than enough about Wolf Culture to know you took good care of his needs, you wouldn’t be a bitch if you weren’t a pretty free-love sort of person,” Zody said knowingly, to which he nodded once more, “and I don’t mind. We’re poly, so even if you weren’t a bitch, he would likely have asked consent from Henri to pursue you, since you’re bonded.”

                “Yeah,” Aristos confirmed, “just because we’re open like that, doesn’t mean we automatically expect it from other couples. An Alpha and Omega always share a pretty special bond, I’ve noticed, but I’ve found that Alphas whose Omega is also a bitch, tend not to be super possessive. I mean, with you being a bitch, a possessive person could never long suffer the delusion of being with you because it’d be really inharmonious given your nature. So I felt pretty safe in taking advantage of your availability without asking first.”

                “Of course,” Henri replied in turn, “and that’s fine. Like you said, it’d be incongruous for someone possessive to be with a wolf-bitch, and I like watching him in use as much as I love using him, myself.” Josh blushed a little bit, but smiled, as Henri leaned in, turning his head to touch their lips together gently, sharing a warm, light kiss.

                “So Aristos, you remember that conversation you had with Zuleika?” asked Josh, as the kiss ended and his eyes turned back to the Spartan. He blinked and jerked a little bit reflexively as he recalled it.

                “Yes, right. Thanks for reminding me,” he answered, sitting up and partially turning toward his mate in the process, “Zody, you know how you’ve been talking about wanting to start a family? Well, I’m ready if you still want that. I mean, as long as your pregnancy doesn’t move as fast as you do.” She laughed softly and shook her head, then rolled her shoulders.

                “Actually, I seriously don’t know whether it would or not, but I doubt it. As long as you’re sure, though, I’d love to,” Zody answered, and Aristos nodded.

                “Out of curiosity, how does that work? When a Revenant and a Lightning Elemental mix I mean,” Josh asked, inquisitively, “I mean, would the baby be automatically, like, half-Revenant because the father’s technically dead?”

                “I consulted an Artemisian Witch about that once; she said if we mated, the child would inherit a lot of things from Aristos, biologically, but would be a Lightning Elemental from birth. As such, we’d need to go away for a while, while we raise the child and teach them to control their electrical powers,” Zody answered, “Unfortunately, neither of us are part of a group with a whole fortress we can hide out in while doing that, so we’d be away from everyone for a few years.”

                “So our best alternative is to travel to one of the witching havens, though we’ve never really discussed which one we would most want to live in for at least five to ten years,” Aristos added, “since I wasn’t ever ready for children, previously. Since I am now, though, that’s obviously going to be one of our first conversations.” Josh nodded, as that all struck him as wholly understandable: there was little point discussing plans for when you had children, when you didn’t plan to have children to begin with.

                “Cool, that sounds like it would be good; I heard the Dolphins and the Sharks each have a city, too, so that’s probably an option, too, right?” asked Josh, but Aristos shook his head in answer.

                “Delphia and Manoa are both delved into undersea mountains, mountains on the seafloor which lack enough elevation to rise above the surface of the ocean, in airy caverns. It would be difficult for us to travel to either of them, and challenging to raise an electrical child in an entire city full of children and adults vulnerable to electrocution,” the Revenant answered, and Josh nodded. It made sense about the latter, though he hadn’t realized that they were actually living at the bottom of the ocean.

                “Ah, right, makes sense; and the witching-havens, they’re safer because witches and warlocks aren’t critically susceptible to lightning?”

                “Exactly,” Zody confirmed, then rose, pulling Aristos up gently with her in the process, “I think I’ll take up Aristos on the offer of trysting, now, but again, thank you for taking care of his needs in my absence. You should feel pretty good about that, he doesn’t usually pursue male playmates.” She smiled, and Josh reciprocated the expression, before watching her depart for Aristos’ personal quarters in the Den.

                As they left the room, Henri entered the room and nudged Josh, who rose promptly while Henri drew him in, “Josh and I will be turning in a little earlier than normal this evening; you may knock if there is an urgent matter, and if you have any intimate needs, Amara is available.”

                Josh was thankful for the fact the pack had a second bitch available now, it certainly enabled him to take the brief break his alpha seemed empathically aware he needed from normal bitch duties. He was certain, owing to wolves’ enhanced regenerative abilities and empathic nature, he would be back to normal in a few days, but for now at least, a break would be nice.

                “Thank you, Alpha,” Josh said in answer, as the door to their personal bedchamber closed behind them, and Henri rolled his shoulders with a warm smile.

                “You’re not accustomed to death like that as much as the rest of us; it hurts, but you learn to cope with it, as time and misfortune accumulate. It hurts to lose a comrade, worse yet a friend, and nobody’ll ever tell you differently around here, but everyone develops their own coping mechanisms. Everyone reacts differently to different stimuli, we haven’t been a pack long enough necessarily to really know the minutiae of every pack-member’s reactions to a loss; it’s human nature. It may be true that we are wolves, and Marcel and Aristos are Revenants, and Zuleika is a Mummy, but we’re also all of us still humans, too,” Henri answered, sitting on the edge of the bed and drawing Josh down onto his lap to speak to him.

                “I can feel the sorrow and the sympathy of the others,” Josh replied, and Henri nodded; it was part of being a wolf, and thereby inherently empathic to some extent, to have such a connection.

                “So no one expects you to be available to their needs right now, intimately or otherwise, even if their means of handling things may be more sexual than how others handle similar stimuli,” Henri said, nodding once more. Josh could tell that Henri was thinking about something more than sexual, though, for their evening together, as a way for them to bond and unwind at the same time.

                Even as he removed his own clothes, Henri undressed elegantly as well, before stepping up in front of Josh, one hand sliding out to caress his lover’s cheek with a thumb, cupping his face tenderly. He leaned forward, as Henri’s fingers slid across his cheek then into his hair, until his lips pressed against the underside of his lover’s shaft, tongue extending to deliver a long lick from the base to the head. His tongue rolled around the head gently, lovingly, arching his back as his hands slid up Henri’s legs from his knees to his hips before cupping into a grip as he took the tip of his mate’s length into his mouth. Even as he slid his lips down around the base, Henri’s hands slid down from his head to cup his shoulders while his own moved slightly further around his mate’s hips.

                “Grr,” Henri growled in arousal as his muscles tensed and his hips moved forward and upward, with his spine arching in answer to the pleasurable sensations, fingers curling against Josh’s back. Josh moaned gently on the length of it, sending sensuous vibrations through the length as his head moved, fingers curling to draw fingernails firmly over the curvature of his Alpha’s rump. He rumbled a soft growl around his mate’s rod as Henri’s nails scratched forcefully up his back toward his shoulders, sending surges of erotic pain lancing through each one’s nervous system. Vermilion lines formed on each of them as claws trailed across flesh while Josh’s chocolate-coloured hair swayed forward and backward rapidly.

                “Urr,” came the omega’s muffled growl, lips sweeping rapidly up and down the length of his mate’s phallic shaft, taking all eight inches to the hilt with each movement as Henri started to thrust hard. Red lines broadened and deepened as Henri’s length hammered into his throat like a piston, Josh’s eyes closing with focus as he clawed against his Alpha and felt claws against his own back in return. The scent of blood slowly neared the skin as their movements continued, arching and groaning as red lines crisscrossed flesh. Henri couldn’t resist for too long given the skill of his omega, gripping Josh’s hair once more after a few short minutes and holding tightly as his seed surged out of his shaft and down his mate’s throat. Muscles constricted around him as Josh swallowed and inhaled deeply through his nostrils, abrasions and welts from the scratching already fading from the accelerated healing rates therians enjoyed. The scent of blood grew distance again, masked by flesh and desire, as Henri slid free of his mate’s mouth, then moved his hands to the brunette’s underarms.

                Quick movements slung Josh lightly up onto the bed on his back as Henri moved in on top of him, one hand reaching for the nightstand and a vial of coconut oil. Lubricated in short order, the still-hard shaft of his prick slipped smoothly into Josh’s rump, and he arched his back with a feral growl of arousal as Josh’s nails slid down his back, in the new position. The brunette lifted his legs and slid them around Henri’s hips, dark eyes looking up toward irises of a lighter pigment, as Henri drove to the hilt amidst the sound of mutual, wolfish growling. The sounds were certainly the sound of wolves and not men, regardless of their currently furless forms, and Henri’s fingers clenched the covers to either side of Josh’s head.

                The entire den almost radiated an empathic sensation of longing and desire, though he was peripherally aware that a few of them had elected to stand outside and take a more watchful position, during it all. For now, at least, Josh was all right with that; as his mate’s length pressed to the hilt inside of him repeatedly, Josh groaned and growled with arousal while his claws slid forcefully back and forth on his lover’s back. He could smell the blood nearing the surface, moving his hands to avoid breaking flesh at any particular part of the back, scratching in new locations as other parts of Henri’s back healed themselves.

                Finally, with a loud, lupine growl, hips slammed against hips, and fresh seed spilled from both partners when Henri came inside of him, and his own release striped his flesh from shoulder to navel. His breathing laboured as his mate slid free, making eye contact as his hands slid away and fell to the covers while he looked up at him, and Henri smiled. He could sense better than Josh could what was going on, emotionally, in those around him. Every wolf bore empathy in the natural world, and it was no different in their kind, even if Josh’s was still developing. By the standards of wolves, he was still in what was considered the juvenile phase, despite being in his twenties, now, chronologically.

                “Much better,” Henri grinned down at him, sliding off the bed and seizing one hand, pulling him off the bed as well, before drawing him to the Den’s bathhouse, that they might clean up, now.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The violent conclusion of the battle against the Hunters of the Necropolis Corps, ensuring the safety of hundreds of civilians in Birmingham, Alabama.

                Six days later, Edmund announced that they had received a message of considerable importance, as it directly related to their planned attack on the reinforced bunker on the twenty-third.

                “Alpha, Omega, we’ve received an audiovisual file of an interview with Lennox Aries, the Hunter defector; it has information that directly pertains to our upcoming attack on the bunker,” Edmund said, brushing strands of red hair out of his eyes in the process.

                “All right, thank you, Edmund; please link it to the television in the hall so that we may review it as a group,” Henri instructed, and the redheaded wolf nodded promptly and left the room. A few minutes later, there was a moment of static on the television and then a colour video started to play, showing an interview room.

                The room itself was about ten feet wide and twelve feet deep, with a mahogany table with four comfortable, cushioned chairs and tablemats at each of the four positions. At the table were three individuals, two on one side, and Lennox on the opposite side, looking toward one another as the video started.

                “All right, Lennox, you said you had important information about the Hunter bunker that you felt was vital to our efforts,” said one of the interviewers, and Lennox nodded.

                “Yes; I need some papers, though, and a pen, please,” Lennox replied, and one of the men opposite him rose, and then moved out of the room for a few minutes.

                “Would you like something to drink?”

                “Coffee, please, if it is no trouble,” Lennox answered. He remained seated as the second man moved to the door and called it to his partner, then returned to his seat. A few short minutes later, the other interviewer returned to the room, placing a cup of coffee on the placemat, followed by a small stack of papers and a black pen, and Lennox nodded his appreciation.

                “Thank you,” Lennox said, taking a sip of the coffee before moving the placemat out of the way and setting the coffee mug on it. Then, he took the papers in front of him and quickly started to draw several images, which then came up on-screen alongside the ongoing video, the finished product of each drawing, and several of them.

                “And what are these, Mister Aries?”

                “Floorplans for the bunker, the layout from the top floor to the bottom,” Lennox answered, making additional marks on the blueprints he was transcribing, designating different important points. He also made sure to write down everything that might be relevant or worth considering – armoury contents, munitions types, the volume of explosives in the bunker’s multiple armouries. Henri’s eyebrows rose slightly at that point; Josh wasn’t sure, but he could sense a bit of surprise from several members of the pack, which told him that it was apparently sort of a big volume of them.

                “Wait, the bunker has four armouries and you’ve got a thousand pounds of dynamite in each damn armoury?” asked one of the interviewers.

                “Who the hell decided you should bring that many explosives?” asked the other.

                “I did,” Lennox answered with a smug smile that was even detectable from the perspective of the camera that was recording the interview, “I specifically requisitioned two tons of dynamite. I also specifically insisted that it should not all be kept in a single armoury.”

                “… why the hell would you specifically requisition two tons of dynamite and have it distributed like that?”

                “Why else?” asked Lennox rhetorically, “So I could ensure the bunker would be destroyed once I defected.”

                “You do realize that will kill everyone inside the bunker, don’t you?” asked the first interviewer.

                “Kind of the point, Mister Blalock,” Lennox answered coolly.

                “You were already planning to defect when you received the assignment that brought you to Birmingham?”

                “I was considering it. Following my selection, I noticed that I was not technically the officer in charge of the mission; the chief officer is a Commander with whom I’ve clashed numerous times,” Lennox replied, “His tactics are anathematic to respectable military conduct; completely ignoble and dishonourable. The man’s a complete dastard; as soon as I was told he was going to be my commanding officer for this mission, and then told who would be my own immediate subordinate, well…”

                “… two plus two equals four?” queried the second interviewer, who’d retrieved the coffee.

                “More-or-less,” Lennox agreed, “so I requisitioned explosives.”

                “Lots of explosives,” interviewer Blalock replied.

                “ _Lots_ , of explosives,” Lennox agreed, “which are already set up for remote detonation.”

                “Excuse me?” the second interviewer queried.

                “You’ll need to be in close proximity to use it,” Lennox answered, “take a look at my personal effects, though. You should still have them in your possession, they haven’t been returned to me, yet. There is a remote detonator. It’s got a limited range, however, you’ll need to be within at least one hundred feet of an exit on the ground level to ensure the signal reaches the detonator boxes.”

                “That is extremely helpful. Are there none in the bunker that you feel any connection to?” asked the second of his interviewers.

                “No,” Lennox answered plainly, “Every single one of them would have put a bullet in me if the commanding officer ordered it. Or even if the Captain I executed at the battlefield had ordered it, for that matter.”

                “Why do you think they brought you on this mission instead of executing you?” asked Blalock.

                “All modesty aside,” Lennox said, “because I am a brilliant tactician. Missions whereon I was put in charge, were traditionally either successful, or were less-than-disastrous failures in the case of unwinnable scenarios or battles. All of which, factored into my decision to defect.”

                “Oh?”

                “Yes, Mister Greaux,” Lennox answered, “for my entire term with the Hunters, I was indoctrinated to believe all members of your community were psychotic, ravenous mass-murderers roaming the night, butchering and eating innocent humans at random.” He took a breath and looked toward the mug of coffee, took a sip, then set it back down.

                “That,” he continued, “was clearly factually fallacious. Over the course of my career, I learnt of many things as a member of their phenomenally poorly named branch tasked with exterminating undead persons. Everything that I learned was limited by that it related to the undead, but even that was enough to slowly convince me that the idea of the undead as terrible monsters was an ingrained doctrine not particularly based in fact. I learned of Wraiths engaging in the haunting of a number of undeniably wicked human beings, of Ghosts performing miraculous acts of healing for ailing children and adults.” He shook his head before taking a longer drink from the coffee, holding the mug in-hand as he stared into the murky brown-black contents.

                “I found evidence of the care and humanity of the undead; like the orphanages we discovered in Birmingham, for instance, but also Zombies working as physicians in the underworld to help the poor and disenfranchised. I learned of Revenants using their abilities to collect intelligence information vital to counterterrorism operations all around the world, preventing the commission of terroristic acts. The Hunters,” Lennox continued, pausing as he stared down into the half-empty mug of coffee, “they have the requisite resources, the necessary organization, the appropriate cohesion, to do much to enhance and uplift human society in all corners of the globe. They are content to allow the whole world to suffer for their inaction, like Ahab’s obsession with the whale to the exclusion of the health and wellness of all else around them. They are an organization with one goal: to kill.” He looked up from the mug, at Blalock and Greaux.

                “… to kill you, more particularly,” Lennox concluded, “naturally, when the time came for me to decide if I wanted to serve humanity or hate, the choice was easy enough. I want to work for the betterment of humanity, not the extermination of nonhuman populations; you may consider this move a defection. I prefer to think of it as transference from a society that talks a good game, to a society that puts their money where their mouth is. I have only one request.”

                “And what would that be, Mister Aries?” asked Blalock.

                “Kill those motherfuckers,” Lennox said flatly, coolly. The audiovisual proceeded a few extra minutes, with a conversation about what manner of immortal he might want to become, ultimately concluding in the declaration that he would be sent to Clan Nahuel. Josh doubted he would ever see Lennox again, and if he did, it probably would not be for at least thirty years, though he would inevitably find his way into a pride and a field assignment.

                A moment later, the screen went black, and soon thereafter, Edmund walked up the stairs and joined them in the Den’s central hall.

                “Well,” said Henri, “that was helpful. Now we just need to wait for them to send us Lennox’s detonator. Any chance we could boost the signal range, though?”

                “Unlikely,” answered Edmund, “the electronics are sensitive, but more than that, it’s hard to boost any signal to drill through dirt, rock, and reinforced concrete.” Henri nodded, as the explanation certainly made enough sense to him, since he couldn’t drill through all that, either.

                “Since this is an offensive action, you’ll be remaining in the Den this time, Josh,” Henri said, and though he wasn’t completely happy with that arrangement, Josh understood. The full moon wasn’t until a week after the attack, so it wasn’t like he was going to miss the moonlight, he’d learned that juvenile wolves were almost never denied their access to moonlight. Simply put, it was too important to the health of the wolf to receive their monthly moon-nights, throughout their juvenile phase. Even so, he knew that as the Pack Omega, his place wasn’t on the offensive actions, he’d only been brought on the last mission because it was a defensive operation overall, to ensure the security of their undead allies. It was an ‘all hands on deck’ situation, and the attack on the reinforced bunker was not.

                “Understood,” Josh replied coolly, accepting the fact he was going to be required to sit this one out, “Don’t make me come out and get you at the end of the night, though.”

                “Of course, love,” Henri softened and smiled in answer, then turned his attention to other things, “there will be no noncombatants who require protection, and we will be receiving support from other elements in the Birmingham area. In light of that, Edmund, Lyle, Valentin, and Cass, you four will remain here in the Den with Josh; all other pack members will assist in the bunker assault. Zuleika, Marcel, Aristos, Zody, it is entirely your own individual choice on whether to join the assault or remain in the Den. If you choose to remain in the Den, no one will think any less of you; Josh will be in command of the defense team, including any of you who remain in the Den, since as Omega, Josh is the den commander.”

                “Understood,” Marcel answered.

                “I will remain in the Den,” Zody said, though she did not proffer any explanation for the decision.

                “All right; we’re attacking on Wednesday evening, after nightfall, so for the time being, get some rest and be ready for the attack. It will be a challenge, but Lennox’s little ‘gift package’ should even the odds in terms of the rather drastic difference in manpower,” Henri said, which received a round of nodding in answer, “Also, Josh is available if anyone considers him to be their ‘preferred’ bitch.” In spite of that Amara was an accomplished and skillful bitch, the possibility remained that Josh would still be the preferred intimate partner. Valentin, for instance, had held off on sex for the last few days, electing to wait for Josh to be ready again rather than asking something of Amara that she had a stated discomfiture with; bitch status did not diminish her rights, after all.

                As Henri mentioned his availability, Josh looked over his shoulder on his way down the stairs with the typical warm smile they had come to know. Valentin was not shy in following him, descending the steps as Josh paused and looked over his shoulder to make eye contact, dark green eyes focusing on shimmery irises of a lighter green pigment, “Omega, I would like a somewhat different experience today, if you wouldn’t mind.”

                “Oh?” answered the younger, darker-haired brunette, before making a motion with his hand, encouraging his current partner to lead the way into his chambers. Valentin smiled as he promptly moved to his bedchamber door and opened it, letting Josh precede him then close the door behind them. He didn’t see a need to lock the door, of course, closed doors were by themselves, lacking exigent circumstance, to be pointed requests for privacy not to be infringed on lightly, if at all.

                “Well, I mean, I am feeling a bit feral, it’s been a few days and since joining the pack I haven’t really gone a few days without, you know, having all necessary access to you,” Valentin replied as the door clicked shut, slipping off his shirt a heartbeat later, “so I’d like permission to make use of you in wolf-form.” Josh slid his own shirt off and laid it on the top surface of Valentin’s dresser, even as the shorter wolf’s shirt fluttered to the floor, tossed there lightly by the older brunette, whose arousal was evident to his nostrils.

                “I’m not old enough to transform at will, and it’ll be several more days before the next full moon,” he replied, but Valentin shook his head a little bit to indicate that wasn’t what he meant.

                “No, I mean, I would like to use you as you are now, but I would like permission to transition to wolf-form and use you in my largest shape,” Valentin explained, and Josh blinked, but nodded in answer.

                “Oh, I understand. Would that be safe?”

                “If you were a normal human, no, it’d probably kill you, but since you’re a werewolf, even your human form is dramatically more durable than an ordinary human’s would be, Omega,” Valentin answered. Josh nodded, while he slid the clothes from his hips, then stepped free of them to stand nude in his pack-member’s bedchamber.

                “All right, well, I wouldn’t mind, then,” Josh confirmed, and Valentin smiled and almost radiated happiness and appreciation, as he divested himself of the last of his own attire. Then, his form shimmered and darkened until it had the same coffee-brown colouration as his hair, thick but silken fur spreading across his entire shape in the process, while his muzzle extended and a tail grew from his tailbone. The transformation rendered the short wolf considerably taller, bringing him from a mousy five feet four inches and one hundred twenty pounds to eight feet four inches and three hundred seventy pounds. His cock had increased considerably in size, as well, expanding from seven inches to fourteen inches and two and a quarter in diameter; smaller than his alpha’s, but larger than anything he’d ever taken in human form.

                Valentin approached unhesitatingly, soft-furred hands cupping his shoulders and then pushing him onto his knees unceremoniously, before moving to his scalp. Claws trailed across it until he got a firm grip, pulling Josh into a position on his hands and knees, before kneeling himself, and angling his hips so his cock brushed across his omega’s face. His hips rolled backward until the tip brushed Josh’s soft lips, and Valentin growled wolfishly in arousal before he thrust, forcing himself to the hilt in Josh’s throat, growling his words lustfully, “I’ve waited patiently for this, you filthy little bitch. I am going to enjoy this, but you better suck while I’m pounding your mouth, slut.”

                Josh groaned around the length of cock in his mouth and throat, penetrating from his lips to his lower throat, sending pleasurable vibrations into Valentin’s enhanced length. The coffee-coloured wolf closed his eyes as fur-coated fingers tangled in Josh’s hair, hips beginning to move violently against the bitch’s mouth, fucking him hard and deep with a soft snarl of need and arousal. Josh could feel his throat stretching a little around the length, and stretching quite a bit deeper than it ever had in this form, but Valentin was right about it being still comfortable for him. The pain of it going further down his throat than he was accustomed to was short-lived, as Valentin hammered him hard and held him forcefully in place with one large, furry palm. He arched and growled in arousal, as his other hand smoothly slid down his back, and trembling in masochistic satisfaction as Valentin clawed up his body towards his shoulders, leaving four long trails of bright red.

                “You like that, you little whore?” snarled Valentin in a mixture of lust, need, and aggression, his fur caressing Josh’s back as he slid it down his body, bending over him as he fucked his mouth during the rhetorical question. His hand slid down over Josh’s rump to his nuts, holding the young omega’s head on his cock while fingers curled around his balls and squeezed. The much smaller brunette arched and moaned in a mingling of pleasure and pain as Valentin’s impressive length continued slamming down his throat, forced in until the other’s nuts pressed against his lips, too big in this form to enter his mouth. His tongue moved gently around Valentin’s length as it continued to piston-slam into his throat, the gentle caress of warm muscles, tight embrace of throat muscles, and sensuous resonations of his sounds combining to heighten the other’s satisfaction.

                “I can tell you do,” Valentin growled, squeezing considerably harder on Josh’s nuts as the omega’s arousal scent filled the air, his own cock almost painfully hard and remaining unattended. He knew he would need to tend to at least one other member of the pack, after this, because Valentin was not going to tend to him at all, and Josh didn’t mind that. Finally, after what felt like several minutes of that enormous prick slamming down his throat several dozen times a minute, Valentin’s hips slung backward and he pulled free. A thick load of cum surged out in a dozen dense streams, spraying across Josh’s face and into his hair, as Valentin pulled firmly on his nuts to slide him back while he was withdrawing, soon covered liberally in the older wolf’s release. As Josh moved his hands, fingers around his nuts tightened even further and yanked, soliciting a soft gasp and a pause in movements.

                “Don’t touch it, bitch,” Valentin ordered gruffly, “you leave my room bathed in my cum, tonight, you filthy little whore.” Josh shivered faintly in answer but nodded, he certainly didn’t mind that if it was what Valentin desired, and waited as the other wolf moved.

                “Palms up,” he ordered, and when Josh complied, coconut oil was poured into each, with Valentin’s rod now standing in front of his face once more, “oil me, bitch.” Josh nodded submissively, hands rising to spread the lubricant oil across Valentin’s length until his entire prick had the fragrant aroma of coconut, before lubricating himself while the other circled him. Finally, fur-covered hands pressed to the floor ahead of him as Valentin moved literally above and around him, one hand grabbing his hips as he aligned himself and pressed in. The size was something to get used to once more, but the lubricant helped it slide in fast and hard, enough so to make Josh arched and gasp in response to the sudden sensation of being stretched to accommodate.

                “Stay still, bitch,” Valentin snarled lustfully, before he began to pound the younger male’s rump aggressively, fucking him for several minutes longer before withdrawing. His pulsing shaft slid free of Josh’s ass, and a second load of his release showered the eternal eighteen-year-old, before Valentin moved around in front of him once more.

                “Open your mouth like a good little cum dumpster,” the older brunette snarled lustfully, pressing his tip into Josh’s mouth the moment his lips parted. He squeezed the last drops of his release from his shaft then wiped his prick off on the kneeling bitch’s lower lip, before sitting back with a huff of gratification. Josh could sense the gratitude that was emanating from his pack-member as Valentin relaxed, catching his breath as the pack’s bitch stretched his muscles and then rose to his feet. His own cock was painfully hard, and he had an impressive volume of jism covering his body from head to knee, as he opened the door and slipped out into the hall. Valentin would thank him later, but for now, it was too soon and he needed to catch his breath, so Josh closed the door with one foot until it clicked shut, then turned to head for the baths.

                “Omega?” called the voice of Helle, through an open door, and Josh paused and turned.

                “Yes, Helle?” the brunette asked, licking cum-splattered lips.

                “May I have my turn next?” she inquired, and Josh moved into her room, where she closed the door behind him, smiling at him, “Thank you. I’d like to clean you up myself, if that’s all right.” Josh nodded, and she moved over to him, extending her tongue and licking up Valentin’s release on his face, until he could open his eyes and watch as she licked away thick stripes of cum. She moved gently down one arm and then the other, licking clean cum-splattered hands and wrists, before licking her way down his back.

                “Bend forward, bitch,” she ordered, and he bent forward, arching with a soft sigh as he felt her tongue moving across his ass, including the crease, then pushing briefly inside of him. She licked her way down his thighs and then up the front of each, around his hips and up his chest, until she’d consumed every ounce of what Valentin coated him in. She didn’t touch his cock at all, not until she knelt down in front of him and extended her tongue to touch the base, drawing her tongue to the tip as she looked up at him.

                “Cum,” she invited, and given how aroused he was, he easily complied, a large load splattering her rapidly splattering her face as she closed her eyes, “Thank you.” He smiled as he watched her clean her face, licking her hands clean as she ate it all, looking up at him from a kneeling position.

                “Thank you, as well,” Josh answered, appreciative of the unexpected tongue-bath she’d delivered, as well as the strangely titillating experience of her tongue pressing inside of him.

                “Mutual benefit,” she said, licking her lips, “I was hungry for it. If it’s no trouble, I’d also like to ask another favour, sort of an in advance thing.”

                “All right, what can I do for you?”

                “You can fuck me in the moon-meadow under the next full moon,” she answered simply, “I would basically like to call dibs on some portion of your transformation this month.” He could sense the attraction and feral desire.

                “Sure, we can definitely make sure that happens,” Josh assured her, and smiled as her form pressed against his, hands sliding around him to cup the curvature of his rump on each side as she embraced him.

                “Thank you. I’m not ready to have kids or anything, of course. We’re far more fertile in our wolf-forms,” she added quickly, as she pulled back from hugging him, “so there’s a much greater likelihood of pregnancies occurring. However, I can counter that by eating a certain herb for a few days to temporarily obviate my fertility, so that it won’t be an issue. I’ll just need to eat it for two or three days prior to the full moon, and two to three days afterwards.”

                “Glad to hear there’s alternatives, since I am admittedly unready for young, too, and would prefer for Henri’s pups to precede mine,” Josh admitted, and she nodded. Her cheeks coloured a little bit and he could tell he had struck a nerve with the statement, and she smiled shyly in answer with a soft hint of a nod.

                “I would like that, too,” Helle confirmed, “I mean, I would like to carry young for both of you.” For a reason he couldn’t readily define right that instant, Josh found such a statement charming and endearing.

                “Well, I need to rest now, Amara and I will undoubtedly have our work cut out for us as bitches for the next couple days leading up to your excursion,” Josh said, and Helle nodded. She let him leave, then closed the door behind him and proceeded to bed while he moved to join his mate in their shared bedchamber.

 

* * *

 

                As the sun neared the westward horizon on the night of the twenty-third, Henri looked out through the tunnel up to the surface, in the Den’s garage. It was almost time to move and he was certain that most of their allies were in position already, or close enough to position to get there with incredible haste as soon as darkness descended. The call had been made that his pack would more-or-less lead the assault, as their group presently included two Revenants and a Mummy, which made them the tip of the spear. When the rest of the assault team members joined him, he nodded a bit, he could tell Josh wasn’t elated about being left behind on this one, but he knew how it was and how it had to be. A Den could not be left undefended or unsecured, save under the most dire of circumstances, and he knew that that’d be a rare situation, rare like the attack on the zombie assembly they had had to protect against the Hunters’ assault.

                “Everyone set?” he asked, then waited as he received assent from each before proceeding out of the Den and breaking into an easy, loping gait. It pressed Zuleika into a swift telekinetic flight, while Marcel and Aristos both took up a comparable running pace; Henri suspected they were thankful they couldn’t sweat. It wouldn’t take long to get to the Hunters’ reinforced and mostly-submerged bunker at that pace, but it would have been a near impossible run if anyone had been mortal. Even a number of immortals would’ve had trouble matching the pace without some kind of assistance, Henri knew the average Witch or Warlock didn’t have the necessary spells to accelerate to such a pace.

                He slowed to a halt about two hundred metres from their destination, motioning toward security cameras on the trees nearby, while they were still in positions that wouldn’t appear. Lennox’s information, once more, proved to be invaluable to their assault, as he drew his pistol, affixed the silencer, and fired on the cameras, expertly terminating a dozen cameras in a wide arc. They would know someone was coming with a hole that size being punched in their security perimeter, but there was nothing to be done with that. He knew from the scents in the air, several additional holes had been punched elsewhere. The scent of fertile loam wafting through the darkness to his heightened olfactory told him of the presence of a large number of zombies approaching from another direction. A whiff of feathers in the air told him that in the gloom of the evening, there were members of Clan Heammawihio in the sky overhead, probably readied by this point for the battle.

                Once everyone was readied, he drew his pistol and removed the silencer, no longer necessary as an outright gunfight was about to be instigated, and reloaded. He cracked his neck, released a lupine howl that would prompt their attack to start immediately from every assault trajectory that had arrived and was now ready to move. Accompanied by their three friends, the wolf pack’s offensive members surged forward in a rush, as the sound of gunfire opened up on the bunker’s ground level from two directions. Rocket-propelled grenades whipped across the gap from tree lines to reinforced concrete, battering the entire structure and soliciting a full-scale response from the Hunters. As windows opened and Hunters appeared in the openings, sniper-fire rained down from above as the Owls took aim while bobbing lightly in the air with the near-soundless beat of their wings.

                The Hunters’ response was almost impressive, as soldiers raced up the steps inside and swarmed out into the open. It triggered an immediate response from the platoons of zombies who had opened fire from the tree lines, with a few dozen moving into the open, at least in some context. Lumbering slowly because of a heavy burden, they moved forward in pairs with heavy steel barricades that must have been ten feet across and four feet tall, as well as having a thickness of six inches. Bullets ricocheted on the barricades as the zombies plodded inexorably forward to bring their blockades into position, the earth shaking as thirty of them were set down in a concave arc. Instantly, another ninety zombie riflemen moved forward, ducking behind barricades only briefly before rising to return fire. Simultaneously, he and the members of his wolf pack pressed in from another direction, firing on the enemy as they stormed forward, with Marcel, Aristos, and Zuleika, flanking them on either side. As Hunters swarmed out into the open ahead of them, sniper-fire from the skies narrowed in focus from the entire field to focus on the Hunters coming out ahead of the wolf pack while they neared.

                “In the sky!” shouted one of the Hunters, and even more of them swept out onto the bunker’s rooftop, tracers of hot metal streaking into the air toward Heammawihio’s sniper squadron. As Henri glanced up for a moment, seeing the snipers whirling and twisting through the sky to avoid the gunfire, he released a voluminous howl that shook the air in his immediate vicinity. A heartbeat later, a howl from the entire pack resonated toward the bunker, loud enough to hurt the ears of the living ahead of them, who clamped their hands over their ears on their current side of the bunker. It didn’t do anything for the zombies fighting on the other side, but it granted the Owls overhead the break they needed; the sound of a large number of Owls hooting noisily filled the air for a few seconds. Then, the Owls whirled in the air and withdrew, diving toward the treetops and swooping across over the highest boughs, accepting Henri’s instruction to retreat. As Marcel and Aristos slammed down into the ground a dozen feet ahead of them following powerful leaps, bullets ricocheted off flesh of tempered metal without harming them.

                Henri glanced upward as they continued to fire, noting the Hunters on the rooftop had brought out their heavy weapons, and shouted immediately to the Revenants. Glancing up just in time, the Revenants strengthened their metal as rockets slammed into each of them, striking so hard that in a glinting blur of metal, they whipped past the members of the wolf pack, hurled into the tree line.

                “Henri, give me the detonator and fall back,” Zuleika shouted, and Henri nodded, pulling the detonator and tossing it in her direction. She seized it with her telekinetic abilities and hauled it toward her until it was in her hand, and Henri nodded once in answer.

                “Fall back!” he shouted, and the members of his pack acknowledged their Alpha’s command, firing on Hunter positions with lethal accuracy as they started backing up rapidly. Bullets whirred past in some cases and slammed into the flesh in others as they withdrew, as Zuleika continued to press forward, now alone. Rockets and rocket-propelled grenades whistled and screeched down in her direction, flung to one side or the other with the motion of a hand and a powerful application of telekinetic force. Bloodless gashes and holes formed as bullets slammed into her, until finally a grenade detonated too near, and fire ignited around her.

                Her eyes narrowed as she drew to a halt perilously near the bunker, eyes flashed a brilliant white, and Henri sensed the buildup of a powerful empathic strike.

                “Feel my pain!” the Mummy’s voice erupted like thunder from burning lungs, and then a visible ripple swept out of her body in a forward arc. The living tensed and howled in pain, bodies contorting in a backward arc as irises broadened and stared into the darkness of the night when the empathic wave hit them. Physical and emotional anguish ripped through them from one side of the bunker’s ground floor to the other, across those on the roof, sweeping through those still on their way up on the first level below. A burning hand whipped forward, hurling the detonator toward the building even further, holding it in an ironclad telekinetic grasp as she propelled it until it was through the door of the bunker and with a twist of finesse, the detonator button compressed. The earth shook violently as the explosives were triggered, fire and energy ripping through the building with such force the entire top floor fell apart, slabs of reinforced concrete soaring in the air and landing up to a hundred metres away. Flame covered the ground, smoldered across the fractured slabs, as Zuleika’s corporeal form disintegrated into an ashy vapour and dissipated nearly instantaneously to nothing at all.

                The battle was over, and no mortal creature moved in the clearing in which the bunker had been constructed. The sound of police and fire sirens filled the air as black smoke rolled into the sky and the inferno lit the night in warm yellow, orange, and crimson. Henri whirled and ran as zombies melted back into the tree-cover and hurried promptly out of the area, themselves. As they reached Marcel and Aristos, Henri seized one’s forearm as he stumbled to his feet after being flung by a rocket, hauling him in the opposite direction several feet.

                “… but Zuleika …” started Aristos.

                “… would not want us to linger about here!” answered Henri, and the Revenants nodded, racing at their best pace while the fire behind burned brighter and more violently than it really should’ve. Henri could tell there was still someone back at the battle site, because concrete didn’t typically burn like that, and there were only two things which would make the fire act the way it was. It was either an Air Elemental feeding oxygen to every hint of flame or a Fire Elemental actively enhancing the fire in a more direct manner. Either way, someone was making sure there wouldn’t be any more evidence to be found at the battlefield than what was physically impossible to eliminate by burning the hell out of it.

                Finally, as they returned to the Den, there was a cyclonic whirl of air as something descended from the skies above, landing in a pirouetting twist of air that then solidified into a human form. He looked to be about five feet ten inches in height and a hundred seventy-five pounds, wispier than would have been healthy for an ordinary human, but unsurprising in an Air Elemental. The man had irises of capri blue and hair of true-black in a shoulder-length ponytail, with a faint scruff of facial hair around the jawline and around his mouth. His present attire was a misty greyish-white colour in the form of a leather shirt and breeches, accompanied by a black leather belt with a nickel buckle, and boots that matched the belt.

                “I take it you were the one that made the fire so… spectacular?” asked Henri as they stood outside the Den’s entrance, and the man nodded.

                “Patrick Endymion Moore,” he supplied, “notified of an attack hinging on the use of explosives, and decided to join the fight. It’s amazing how far a little extra oxygen will let a fire go… and how containable it is when you also surround the area with an unusually high concentration of carbon dioxide.” He’d essentially turned the clearing into a sort of gaseous pressure cooker, simultaneously enhancing and restricting the fire caused by the detonation of all those explosives Lennox had prepared.

                “Your assistance was much appreciated; the humans shouldn’t find too much evidence of the Hunters or us,” he said, “it’s only unfortunate that there won’t be as many zombies going back as joined the attack.”

                “Yeah, I counted about twenty that weren’t returning; I lingered to ensure that their remains were recovered by their comrades. The humans won’t find any trace of Hunter corpses, either, I made sure those were reduced to ash, as well their weapons and as much of the bunker as possible. It’ll still be on the news, though,” Patrick said in response, before his form turned aery once more, and a wisp of colourful air whirled up out of sight.

 

* * *

 

 

                Sitting in Zuleika’s chamber as Edmund worked on cleaning it, Josh observed how it looked as if she hadn’t ever actually slept in the bed. It looked like she had laid on the bed, but not as if she had ever actually gotten into the bed and slumbered at all, and Josh considered the events. A loss was hard to process and pass, but two deaths proved a far harder thing to handle, even if he’d never actually been sexually intimate with Zuleika due to her asexuality. His eyes roamed the room, until he noticed a sheet of paper with a pen beside it, and stood to walk over to it, smelling ink on the page and knowing it had something written.

                _All that has happened is as it was meant to be_ , the writing started, _My foresight permitted me such knowledge. It was an easy choice; had I foregone the mission, several members of the pack would have died, by playing my part, I could diminish that loss to one. Do not mourn for me; I have lived for an age, and thousands of years is an era one cannot feel slighted to live on this Earth. I have enjoyed the friendship and warmth of the companionship of wolves, an honour to end my life in such company, and I have no regrets: all that has happened was meant to happen. I rest, now, and I am at peace with all that has come before, and the conclusion before me._

                Josh considered the words, and found it soothing to know she had gone knowingly and courageously into the end of her long life. It offered some peace, though he would need a few additional days before he could say he would be truly ready to move on.

                “I know, it isn’t easy,” said a voice from the doorway, and Josh looked over his shoulder to see Marcel there, hands in his pockets and elbows flared outward a little, “Some humans say, they will sleep when they’re dead. Yet, it doesn’t really work like that, I haven’t slept so much as an hour since my death without the aid of a Witch or Warlock, either Hypnosian, Nyxian, or maybe an unusual Apollonian. Sleep is a luxury of being alive.” Josh huffed faintly with amusement, a hint of a smile crossing his lips as he maintained eye contact with the Frankish Revenant.

                “Yes. Sleep can soothe and offer peace,” Marcel continued, “You should get some.” Josh smiled at him, and offered a hint of a nod in turn.

                “All right,” the younger male replied, “I think I will.” He slid past Marcel, and then proceeded to the chamber he shared with Henri, and slid into a serene slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter of THE WOLF AND THE HUNTER, Book Two of "the Omega Wolf Series" -- I will soon start publishing chapters from the next story about Josh Colcord, THE WOLF AND THE EXILE, where the Pack will be confronted by hostile immortals hunted into exile for violence against mortals in violation of Masquerade Law.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, comments, observations, impressions, questions, and courteous critiques, are always welcome!


End file.
